


The Saint without forgiveness and the Mercenary who could see God

by EternalSinner



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, As they walk a tightrope to avoid the unfortunate incestuous implications!, Byleth "Expert" in untangling mommy issues'" Eisner, Byleth trying very hard to proof to Rhea she's a real human bean, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Watch the iconic duo perform mental acrobatics and contort themselves through mental hoops., While Rhea is desperate to thwart her due to the unfortunate and disturbing implications
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalSinner/pseuds/EternalSinner
Summary: AU Where Sothis cannot speak to Byleth and instead spams her with memories and visions because the Goddess really doesn't want her daughter's shady plans for her to come to fruition.While Rhea feverishly anticipates finally succeeding in bringing her mother back- waiting patiently until the oh so willing vessel will sit on the throne- Byleth, on the other hand has been casually drowning in all sorts of memories featuring a deeply emotional Rhea in various moments -mostly dark ones- of her painful life and has now come to develop her own feelings for the illustrious Archbishop, feelings very unlike that of Sothis.Unfortunately for Rhea, neither Byleth nor Sothis have ever mastered the skill of being subtle and now the Archbishop will be the one to suffer the consequences of it, which is solely her own fault really.ORThe fic where Byleth and Rhea have a contest where they insist on making each other as deeply uncomfortable as possible by refusing to agree on the nature of Byleth's feelings, while Sothis is the very unwilling spectator.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Rhea
Comments: 20
Kudos: 116





	1. Free will

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you'll enjoy reading it.
> 
> The story can go in several directions but I have the final chapters more or less ready in my head.
> 
> Also while Edelgard is one of my favorite characters, I can't fit her true self in this fic. I want this fic about Byleth and Rhea learning to understand each other and if Edelgard is going start her cute rebellion by intervening in the holy tomb, putting Byleth in a 5 year coma and plunge the world into a 5 year bloody war I'll end up with a 458k work that will kill my soul.  
> So for my peace of mind Edelgard is a normal student with her original brownish hair color doing her own thing as she prepares herself to take over the imperial throne.

For as long as Byleth can remember she had never been aware of the Goddess trapped in her mind. Sothis herself likely wasn’t aware of it either- if she had been conscious at all. Most people around Byleth simply thought she was stoic, blunt or downright unable to feel.

But Byleth did feel, always had. It had just always been as if there was a strong barrier between her feelings and thoughts. She could access both of them just fine but they hardly mingled. Which means that using emotions in speech or battle was hard, but also that putting emotions into thoughts- into meaning- was neigh impossible.

That had been her life, her reality, until she arrived at Garreg Mach,

It was seeing Lady Rhea for the first time that served as the trigger that had echoed from Byleth’s consciousness straight into that of Sothis, awakening and summoning her presence into Byleth’s mind with a jolt.

Byleth’s senses had been flooded by an unfamiliar surge of urgency as the suddenly awoken Goddess in her had abruptly understood the situation they the both of them were in. Sothis had seemingly panicked and drowned Byleth with flashes of visions and memories, to make clear the both of them were in deep peril solely because of what her daughter had done to Byleth all those years ago, and who was now preparing to reap what she’d sown.

The endless stream of memories, images, feelings and emotions that weren't her own had overwhelmed Byleth and it didn't take long before she succumbed to them, slumping to the ground as she fainted.

She woke up in the infirmary a day later, with a clean bill of health as Manuela couldn't find anything wrong aside from 'sudden overload of stress' which they both agreed on was nothing for Byleth.

Byleth had neglected to tell the healer she could now distinctly feel a murmuring presence in her mind. It wasn't intrusive, but it was certainty alive, with it's own thoughts and feelings contained in a small bubble in Byleth's mind. Byleth was long and well out of the infirmary when the thoughts and memories she saw before she blacked out came back and with a start she realized the presence in her was none other than Sothis, the Goddess of Fodlan.

That was.... rather unique, she mused and wondered what it meant, and what it would mean in the future.

It became clear rather quickly that Sothis couldn’t talk to Byleth -not in words- so communicating was hard at first. But Sothis swiftly learned how to work around it, for while Sothis couldn’t speak to Byleth in words, she could send Byleth her memories, visions and emotions.

It took her some time to get the hang of it, how do make the memories and visions last longer, less blurry, more stable and consistent.

At first the experience had been confusing and unnerving to Byleth, as she had no idea what was happening to her usually stoic and calm thoughts. Suddenly she had _feelings_ and memories to have feelings about.

But gradually the Goddess had begun to inform Byleth of both her knowledge of the past and future, with more and more of her thoughts seeping into Byleth’s own as she figured out how to do so more effectively.

And by now those memories were countless, and despite the fact that many of them were fractured or not that long- they were memories scrambled together from over a thousand years, so Byleth felt she now had more memories of Sothis and Rhea – clear ones that never seemed to blur or fade- than of her own.

* * *

Byleth sighs wistfully to herself as she makes her way through the sunny halls of Garreg Mach. She’s not at all looking forward to what is to come. She has now fully resigned herself having to face Rhea and finally saying what’s on her mind despite knowing full well she’s wholly unprepared to do so.

But she’s just done with it, she thinks wryly, the lying and scheming and endless manipulating from the Archbishop.

Because Rhea isn’t at all aware that Byleth _knows._

Knows exactly what the holy Archbishop has done in the past, what she’s hiding, and what she is up to now, right down to what she’s planning to do with Byleth and per extent, Sothis.

And Byleth done pretending she doesn’t know, done playing along with Rhea’s sweet lies so the Archbishop can keep telling herself she holds no guilt.

Byleth can’t help but feel a strange sort of amusement at the irony the unpredicted flaw in Rhea’s schemes, because while Sothis might have lost access to most of her powers as a Goddess, she still has all the powers that come with being a godly _Mother_. So naturally the Mother Goddess knows all about her wayward daughter’s less than ethical intentions with Byleth. Byleth isn’t sure how Sothis knows everything, as in a lot of Rhea’s memories she’s completely alone but she supposes the old saying ‘mother knows all’ also applies to sort of dead Goddess Mothers.

To make thing more interesting for Byleth, the Goddess has been persistently informing her about her daughter’s intentions almost nonstop, there wouldn’t a day go by where she was shown a new memory of Rhea doing something that Byleth only half understood yet could easily conclude that it was both driven by Rhea’s desperation –which would occasionally border on insanity- and nearly always morally ambiguous, if now straight up wrong.

It was clear that Sothis really, _really_ didn’t like what her daughter is planning to do with both herself and Byleth’s body and is desperate to stop her in doing so.

Byleth wonders to herself once more if Sothis can access any of her personal feelings, because they haven’t been matching those of Sothis for a long time now. She feels guilt flicker through her, as she’s pretty sure that if Sothis would have any clue on what Byleth was feeling in regards to Rhea and her intentions for the both of them the Goddess would have drastically switched tactics a long time ago.

Despite the fact that the feelings Sothis would send her regarding her daughter were… less than kind – anger, betrayal, grief, frustration- Byleth had long found it impossible to feel the same way.

Sothis probably operated under the assumption that if she’d send Byleth enough of her memories –of Rhea’s darker and more twisted moments, and her plans for Byleth’s life- it would lead to Byleth sharing her sentiment and avoid Rhea at all costs to prevent her fate from happening.

An admirable plan really, Byleth thinks all things considered.

But Sothis likely hadn’t taken into account the possibility that the memories she poured into Byleth’s memories would lead her on an entirely different path.

Sure, Byleth had been unnerved when she first began putting the pieces together and the memories suddenly made sense and the conclusion she had to draw was painful to say the least.

She had been wary of the Archbishop to say the least when she concluded the woman was planning to bring back her lost Mother, snuffing out Byleth’s life in the process. Although Rhea would never consider it an act of murder, as she didn’t even regard Byleth as _alive_ to begin with.

The teacher distinctly remembers clenching her fist in quiet rage and disgust when she had met Rhea for the first time after she had realized the truth and Rhea had spoken to her in a voice so melodious and gentle yet her words said _nothing_ at all.

She was a monster shrouding herself in false sweetness and gentleness while secretly out for Byleth’s life. She wasn’t _human._ The Archbishop had had angered and frightened Byleth with her vague kindness and flowery words.

For a short while she had indeed been planning to flee, to get away from Garreg Mach as soon and far as possible.

But the memories wouldn’t stop coming. Their link was now strong enough it was more as if Byleth and Sothis shared the Goddess’s memories, except for Sothis’s private ones which were untraceable to Byleth. And the former mercenary was free to access them. Sothis had even structured her memory so that all memories she considered relevant –of herself, of Byleth and of Rhea- were easy to find while others, when Byleth was curious and sniffed around, would evoke an unnerving feeling of _why do you want to see this?_ So she left those well alone.

All those memories of Rhea…. They were enough, really.

Numerous fragments of memories flood Byleth’s senses and enter her vision in no particular order.

When Rhea is alone she cries so much.

When alone in the dark Holy Tomb, kneeling in front of her mother’s throne, head buried into her arms folded on the seat in an attempt to muffle her sounds of agonized wailing and crying.

When she was faced with the failure of yet another of her twisted experiments and neither Byleth nor Rhea knew if the tears on her cheeks were out of anger or grief.

When she’s in bed late at night and sleep won’t come until dawn breaks and Rhea spends the night clinging needily onto a pillow, trying to suffocate the sounds of her muffled cries, because she’s so cold and _alone._

Sometimes there isn’t even a direct cause, Rhea would simply suddenly excuse herself with a pleasant smile from whatever meeting she was in and rush to her room, bolt the door only to lose the strength in her legs, gracelessly succumb to the floor and break down in tears.

While Byleth doesn’t think she knows much about the nature of monsters, she does think that they aren’t supposed to cry as much as Rhea does- especially not when they’re alone.

And while Byleth definitely got the point Sothis was trying to get across fairly quickly – _My daughter has lost her mind, she’s dangerous. Get away! -_ she had also come to care for Rhea.

She had been surprised by herself when Sothis had send yet another memory of Rhea into her mind and Byleth had suddenly been overwhelmed with the desire to comfort the Archbishop in her moment of misery.

At first it had been an almost passive sort of pity. It was nothing short of uncomfortable and disturbing to see a grown woman so desperate, so lost when she thought no one was watching,

But her feelings of pity had quickly began turning into empathy, into understanding.

Byleth had begun seeking more memories of her own.

And finally all the twisted and conflicted feelings she had felt for the Archbishop turned into acceptance.

It took her a while to realize it but Byleth had begun to long for more memories. One day Sothis send her a memory and Byleth thought it might have been an accident because she couldn’t tell what Sothis wanted to make clear with this memory, for there was no sin or desperation or insanity in this memory.

No, it was Rhea, in a long wide nightgown reaching to her ankles as it fluttered around her, her hair loose- the long green locks following her head with untamed grace. It must have been the early hours of the morning because it was so dark, and also in one of the more private hallways as Rhea seemed confident she wouldn’t run into anyone. She was almost gliding through the empty halls of Garreg Mach with a lit candle in her hand. It was almost like a dance, but she’d stop near the windowsills and glance outside – at the stars, at the trees, the sleeping animals, anything that would rustle in the wind- utterly still for moments at the time before continuing on. She seemed free in that memory and it was clear she felt safe too, as she didn’t seem frightened at all.

In that moment, Rhea was truly herself and she was so beautiful when she was.

And so her genuine understanding of Rhea had….

….turned into love.

Byleth sighs again, tiredly and wistfully. Surely Sothis would be disappointed in her.

She’s even a little bit disappointed in herself, if she were to be truthful. If only for her glaring lack of self perseverance- she was a mercenary for heaven’s sake, she didn’t survive all these years in battle only to succumb to a crush on a desperate woman driven to the brink of insanity- one who does not consider Byleth a rightful human being to boot.

It makes sense though, she thinks to herself. Byleth had never been particularly close to anyone – never shared a deep connection with anyone – so she doesn’t think it’s all that strange she’d fall in love with the one woman she now knows and understands more deeply and intimately than anyone.

Even if that connection only goes in one direction and even if Rhea doesn’t consider her _alive._

She always had trouble feeling things deeply –and she was now convinced it was because Sothis had subconsciously been leeching of off her emotional capacity- but when the Goddess had started to make her presence more clear in Byleth’s mind, the feelings she’d send to Byleth along with her memories had taught her how to feel. Or rather, what different feelings meant and how to put them into words.

Because whenever Sothis’s feelings would flood her mind, they’d still be in their own bubble, Byleth didn’t actually feel what Sothis felt. Instead it was more as if she was finally able to decipher her own feelings as Sothis unknowingly provided her with the tools to do so –the ability to translate the language of emotions into a language of words.

The barrier separating her feelings and her thoughts had started to gradually melt away as she gained more access to Sothis’s feelings and through those Byleth had finally been able to master emotions and make them her own.

And now Byleth was going to die because of them.

The irony, her lack of emotions had always made her a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield and now it would be her newfound fondness of them that would be her downfall.

Because despite knowing full well what will happen –Sothis would warn her constantly- she is going to sit on that damn throne if it is what it takes to make Rhea happy.

Even if it will kill her- or worse, _erase_ her.

Even if Sothis herself doesn’t actually want to come back.

But before she does so Byleth feels determined to proof to the Archbishop she’s more than a vessel for her Mother’s soul. She fiercely needs the woman to know she is fully her own person and that the choice to sacrifice herself for Rhea and Sothis is wholly her _own._

It hurt to see Rhea look at her and see the cruel impatience behind her smile. The Archbishop is a twisted sort of offended by Byleth’s mere existence- seeing her very being as nothing but a hindrance serving to delay the resurrection of her Mother.

Her impatience had only grown worse when Byleth’s hair had changed as it had only added to Rhea’s firm belief Byleth’s body was nothing more than a facsimile of life, an empty vessel waiting patiently until Sothis’s soul would etch into it and take over.

The relentless yet distant kindness Rhea had started to shower her with after her hair had changed just hurt Byleth even more -not to mention it unnerved her deeply because it was both distorted and really _not_ how Byleth wanted Rhea to look at her.

Rhea, having grown so desperate to bring her Mother back, and finally so close, couldn’t resist letting herself indulge in the delusion- Or belief, Byleth isn’t sure Rhea can tell the difference at this point- that in a way Byleth already is her Mother, only not yet fully in control.

It had taken her all her willpower not to scramble away in uncomfortable distress when Rhea had reached out her hand to hold a stray strand of Byleth’s newly colored hair, so mortified she was by Rhea’s distorted display affection for her.

It didn’t have to be love, Byleth didn’t need Rhea to love her the same way she loved her.

But she definitely needed the Archbishop to see her as anything else than her _damned_ mother.

Because she’s _not_ her mother, for Heaven’s sake.

She’s her own person, and she’ll gladly put Rhea through emotional hell to convince her of that, it would merely be one of the consequences of her own actions. If the woman can shamelessly unnerve Byleth by trying to make them both believe she’s Rhea’s _mother_ when she reaches out to touch her, Byleth can sure as hell unnerve her right back by ensuring her Byleth’s feelings for the Archbishop aren’t _motherly_ in the slightest.

She’s not sure the idea should amuse her as much as it does but she really thinks both Sothis and Rhea should have opted for a different tactic if they had truly wanted to be successful in making Byleth bend to their whims in their strange conflict they tangled her in without giving her a choice.

Because the both of them utterly _failed_ and consequently set Byleth on a path to just do whatever she pleased for maybe the first time in her life- which might or might not involve making the both of them suffer for their actions.

She grins at the thought.

Luckily for Byleth –and likely _very_ unfortunately for Rhea- the Archbishop has gracefully provided her with the opportunity to do just that- to do exactly what it is _she_ wants. Out of her own free will.

The Archbishop had requested Byleth’s presence in her personal chambers, under the excuse she needed to inform Byleth of some of the finer details and procedures regarding the holy ceremony to come- all lies, if Sothis’s memories were anything to go by. All Byleth really had to do was sit on the damn chair while holding her sword. She could do it blindfolded, naked, she could probably lie on it upside down, with her head dangling off the seat and her legs aligning up with the meticulously decorated headboard. With amusement Byleth wonders if she could give Rhea a heart attack if she were to wiggle her feet at the upper edge of the headboard. 

She gathers her thoughts, temporarily letting everything regarding the Holy Ceremony slip from her mind. She has other things to focus on for now.

Byleth knows she’s unprepared,really has no idea what to say or how to even begin. But she also knows that that simply means she’ll be less than delicate in her words when it comes to it and she can’t help but spitefully think to herself it’ll be Rhea who will suffer through the consequences of that.

She can’t help but feel weirdly amused by the sheer oddity of it all. Here she is, the stoic mercenary who, despite having no heartbeat is now deeply in love with the Holy Archbishop of all people- who also happens to be a thousand year old War Saint named Seiros, can turn into a very large dragon and is somewhat of an immortal Goddess herself, seeing as she is the _daughter_ of the actual Goddess, who is stuck in Byleth's head, by the way- and Byleth is now on a very stubborn path to deeply unnerve and upset the Goddess and her equally Divine daughter.

Byleth can't suppress a laugh as she finishes putting all these utterly strange aspects of her life in order and is surprised by the dim echo of the sound she made.

A quick glance around reveals she’s already in front of the Archbishop’s chambers and it instantly robs her of her high spirits. With some effort she shakes the spiteful feelings which suddenly spike in her chest, softening a bit as she is faced with the reality of truly having to hurt Rhea- the person she loves- if she wants to get her point across.

But she has to, she will _not_ die willingly for the person she loves without them at _least_ acknowledging her humanity, her free will.

She's not that much of a doormat, not even for the person she loves, not even for the Holy Archbishop herself.

Her fist hovers in the air as she hesitates momentarily, before finally finding the courage to knock softly on the heavy wooden door.

It takes long – too long for Byleth as her nerves start to act up- before she finally hears rustling coming from behind the door. A moment later the door opens smoothly as Rhea, complete with her serene smile and gentle composure, greets her and invites her in.

“Professor,” she says warmly. “You got my message I see, I’m glad you could make it on such short notice. I hope it wasn’t any trouble.”

If she notices Byleth’s unusual stiffness as she awkwardly steps inside she doesn’t show it. “Lady Rhea,” she mutters, nodding in greeting. “It’s… it’s no problem, I had a quiet day.”

She’s already cursing herself for being so useless, not making the confident entrance she was hoping to make. She could at least try harder to act normally, she tells herself sternly.

At this rate Rhea will notice something is off before Byleth can find the words to tell her exactly what that is, and she’ll know just how that will end, with Byleth freezing as she chokes on her feelings before hurriedly making a shameful exit as she’s overwhelmed by the need to _get away_ from the source of her discomfort.

She needs to avoid that at all costs as it will make any follow up attempts to reveal her knowledge to Rhea that much more awkward and thus harder.

With a serious struggle she manages to keep her composure. In an attempt to distract herself from… herself she glances around the spacious room.

It’s something in-between a room to receive guests and a personal room. With slight awkwardness Byleth realizes she had been expecting a bedroom but the idea that someone of Rhea’s position would receive a guest in her bedroom is likely unheard of, if not downright inappropriate.

She lets her awkwardness slip from her like water. It’s not her fault she’s inexperienced in the matters of nobles and the like, all they gave _her_ was a room with a bed and a desk after all.

As Rhea leads her inside, to a duo of chairs with a small round table in the middle by a large window her eyes come to rest of a larger armchair in another corner of the room. It’s the only place with some evidence of life in the otherwise perfectly still chamber. Books and papers litter the armrests of the chair, with some of them scattered around it was well. Byleth even notices pencils laying around.

“What were you doing?” she asks her promptly.

She can tell by the way Rhea can’t quite hide how the sudden question startles her- as her eyes widen slightly and focus on Byleth with a little too much intent- that asking what the holy Archbishop does in her own time is perhaps considered inappropriate, if not at least unheard of.

To try and stop making this more awkward she gestures at the chair. “My apologies,” she mumbles. “I just couldn’t help but notice the books and papers.”

Rhea visibly relaxes and smiles at her. “Oh,” she says. “I was just reading.”

“Reading about what?” Byleth presses, knowing full well Rhea doesn’t expect nor wants her to ask her such a thing but she’s just genuinely interested.

She realizes that the only two sides of Rhea she knows are the overly kind and vague one that says nothing about her true self and the deeply desperate and grieving one she doesn’t want anyone to know of and suddenly Byleth finds herself now achingly curious to all the parts of Rhea that exist in between those two extremes- like what kind of things she enjoys reading about.

Rhea seems unsure of what to say for a moment, giving her a long questioning look. “I was reading about… about," she starts awkwardly, perhaps even strained, as if she never really shares these kind of things with others and isn't quite sure how to. "Well, it’s fiction foremost- but the story contains an analysis on the human psyche and it has been written with such realistic detail and provides a lot of logical foundation people have begun theorizing that the author’s findings might have been based on truth, if not outright true.” She points at the papers scattered about. “Those papers are theories by several different people, all experts in their field,” she finishes and gives Byleth a gentle smile. “I was making notes with the pencils, for my own ideas,” she adds as an afterthought.

It’s probably the most Byleth has ever heard her say- or rather the most Byleth has ever heard her say compared to the amount of words she uses, as she had no reason to skillfully skirt around the subject and be needlessly vague- which she usually does by adding so many words that say so very little.

“I didn’t know you held interest in reading about such things,” Byleth says softly, tone perhaps slightly too curious but she can’t help but feel fascinated by Rhea’s interest.

The Archbishop flashes her a tiny but knowing smile. “In truth I’m not all that busy of a woman, you might as well know,” she reveals with just a hint of genuine mirth. “I have to find some ways to occupy myself with,” she explains nonchalantly.

Byleth can understand her need to do so, as Rhea doesn’t strike her as someone who can bear to be alone with her thoughts for too long. She nods in understanding. “It’s nice, that you enjoy such a thing I mean. I wouldn’t have guessed you to be one to hold an interest in fiction.”

Rhea seems once again slightly taken aback by her words, she opens her mouth as if she wants to say more- and Byleth fiercely wishes she would, utterly curious to know just what she enjoys about the story- but closes it again without saying anything before lightly shaking her head.

Her expression changes, a more confident smile settling on her features again but Byleth has long learned to tell her smiles apart from each other and this one isn’t the genuine kind. “Regardless, you didn’t come here all this way to hear me chatter about fiction,” she says and Byleth finds herself desperately wishing that hearing Rhea tell her about the story she likes was exactly the reason she had come.

Still she sits down without saying anything in one of the chairs when Rhea gestures for her to do so before the Archbishop sits down in the opposite one herself.

After an almost dismissive glance at Byleth, Rhea begins informing her about the Holy Ceremony that is to come.

Before Byleth knows it she’s trapped in an endless string of unfamiliar customs and rituals being thrown at her. Something about clothes she has to wear and the importance of bringing the Sword of the Creator. She can follow that much- it makes sense- but she completely loses Rhea's reasoning after that. And why do her students need to be present? Byleth really doesn’t want them to see her… to see her die.

“You’re truly someone special, professor,” Rhea muses wistfully, forgoing her excessive lecturing momentarily to give Byleth an indistinct smile instead. “For being granted the opportunity to get a vision from the Goddess like this.”

 _Special._ The word hits Byleth like a fist in the stomach . How _dare_ this woman shamelessly lie and manipulate her into her doom ‘unknowingly’ without a hint of guilt, even having the nerve to make it sound like a special occasion worthy of celebration.

She looks at Rhea and her smooth smile that doesn't meet her eyes and something inside Byleth just snaps.

“Please, Lady Rhea,” she pleads, surprising the other woman with the tension in her voice, who blinks at her with wide uncomprehending eyes. “Just… just stop, please,” she continues, unable to keep the fragile edge from her voice. “It’s alright, I… I know. So just stop this,” she adds softly, sounding more sad than she anticipated.

She thought she’d feel more angry but all she feels is sorrow and relief at finally bring able to breach the subject.

The Archbishop on the other hand is clearly not comprehending what Byleth is getting at. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she says with in calculated tone. “Are you alright, professor?” She adds, sounding more wary than worried.

“No, I’m not alright,” Byleth responds abruptly, her voice containing slightly more life now. She takes a deep breath and resigns herself to the consequences of what she’s about to say.

“I know, Lady Rhea. I know what will happen if I go down in the Holy Tomb and touch the throne of the Goddess.”

Rhea completely freezes in fear at her words yet there is still confusion lingering in her eyes so Byleth continues. “I know I will not live to see through it, so please, _please_ stop pretending like I will, like I’m someone special. Because I’m not and I cannot bear it anymore to have you pretend I am.”

Rhea remains utterly frozen, the smile having disappeared from her lips, but Byleth can tell the exact moment when her brain starts rapidly spinning to come up with a way to salvage her plan as her eyes nervously glance to the door quickly before darting back to Byleth with an expression so cold and calculating that Byleth is momentarily convinced Rhea will now forcefully trap her in this very room and personally drag her to the Holy Tomb when the time is right.

Before things can escalate to such an extend she quickly speaks up again. “You don’t have to be afraid, Lady Rhea,” she assures. “I’m not going to make a run for it,” she explains to the Archbishop who seems to be panicking inwardly. Byleth sighs in resignation, too saddened by the Rhea’s reaction, however minuscule it was, to care anymore. “I’m not going to resist at all, you don’t have to worry. I’ll comply and do what you want of me.”

When Rhea hears her say this she finally does find it within herself to react. “I..I don’t understand,” she stutters warily. “If you know what will happen then why would do so willingly…”

It means more to Byleth than she thinks it should but she can’t help but feel some sort of relief because at least Rhea acknowledges her as enough of an individual she finds the idea that Byleth would willingly erase herself without hesitation unlikely.

The relief probably clouds her mind because she’s pretty sure she has some sort of brain lapse, completely forgetting what she should and shouldn’t share as she speaks without thinking.

“Because I know how badly you want your Mother back,” she says softly.

She realizes her mistake when Rhea’s eyes riddle with fright, which bleeds into a desperate anger as the Archbishop feels like a caged animal when she realizes her hidden connection to the Goddess is crudely exposed by Byleth.

It’s somewhat mesmerizing to witness the ever calm and controlled Archbishop completely lose her composure within mere seconds, Byleth thinks to herself with a sense of detached curiosity and wonder.

“ _You,_ ” Rhea snarls and Byleth instinctively backs into her chair in self-perseverance at the enraged tone. “How do you _know_ that?” She demands forcefully.

Byleth feels her last bit of resolve fade as her will crumbles underneath Rhea’s overpowering aura. “Your Mother let me know,” she admits awkwardly, stuck somewhere in-between wanting to come clean and desperate to hide the finer details of just what she knows and how she came to now it. She’d rather not let the Archbishop she’d be able to speak to Sothis through Byleth, she shivers at the prospect of being subjugated to listen to Rhea endlessly speak to her Mother while she servers as mediator.

Her words at least seems to take the wind out of the Archbishop though, giving Byleth precious time to gather herself and hopefully come up with something actually useful to say.

“My…my Mother?” she whispers disbelievingly, her voice painfully fragile. “She spoke to you?”

“Not exactly,” Byleth admits, feeling a pang of guilt for slightly misleading Rhea. “She send me her memories… memories of you.”

Rhea looks at her with a burning desire to ask her questions she doesn’t dare ask, fearing she might reveal things to Byleth that will work detrimental to her plans.

“I think I know most of the important things,” Byleth answers for her instead. “I know what you did to me when I was born, I know what you’ve been trying to do all this time and I know what you want to do to me.”

“And despite knowing what will happen to you, you are still willing perform the ceremony in the Holy Tomb,” Rhea repeats carefully.

“Yes.”

Rhea is silent for a moment, deep in thought. “I see.”

Byleth suddenly feels very conflicted with herself, as if she’s deeply angry with herself without knowing why.

The truth hits her hard along with a deep feeling of dread.

_Oh no._

It’s not her own anger she’s feeling, it’s that of _Sothis._

Byleth had somehow completely forgotten to calculate in the fact the Goddess would be _right there_ with her to witness her awkward and dramatic revelation to her daughter and said Goddess is now rightfully upset after having learned Byleth is planning to do the exact opposite of what she’s been trying to tell her to do for months now.

She curses inwardly.

She curses inwardly _again_ when she realizes she has more to reveal and finds herself fiercely wishing she could tell the Mother of the woman she is planning to confess her feelings to -in what can be nothing but a disastrous spectacle to behold- to _bugger off_ while she does so.

Ah, to hell with it, she thinks to herself. It’s wholly the fault of said Mother and daughter Byleth is in this mess to begin with, let them suffer with her.

Sothis’s interference had managed to momentarily distract her from Rhea but the other woman makes herself known again, promptly going for one-upping her Mother in their race to make Byleth as uncomfortable as possible.

“I’m glad you feel this way, Professor,” she says in a tone that arouses Byleth’s suspicion and instantly makes her dislike where she is going with this. “It’s further proof you are the perfect vessel for the Goddess and she’s been preparing you for her arrival.”

Byleth chokes on her own breathing at Rhea’s words and gives her a deeply offended look because no _, no Rhea._ No, that is _not_ the right angle at all, Byleth thinks to herself with discomfort and frustration.

Does this woman even know how utterly _wrong_ that sounds?

The way Rhea looks at her- with that tranquil smile that gives her an air of conviction- clearly tells Byleth Rhea either doesn’t know or doesn’t care.

She opens her mouth to protest but the words die in her throat as she realizes she’s not sure she has it in her to tell someone who has been going mad with grief for centuries at being unable to cope with the loss of her Mother that said Mother doesn’t want to come back to her at all and is frankly very upset with her – with both of them- at this point.

Why do these two _insist_ on making things so hard for her?

She wishes she could take herself out of the equation, that she could just channel Sothis for a moment or something. Let them fight and bicker while she idly waits in some sort of mind space.

But no, that would be too easy.

“I’m my own person, Lady Rhea,” she mutters stubbornly, still unable to tell her about Sothis’s feelings on the matter and hoping she can just focus on talking about her own instead.

“Of course you are, dearest professor,” Rhea tells her sweetly, clearly lying in an attempt to soothe her and keep Byleth's compliance.

“You don’t believe me,” Byleth scoffs in frustration.

Rhea is quiet in contemplation for a moment as she chooses her words carefully. “I do not believe that someone without such a strong connection to the Goddess would give themselves to the Goddess as willingly as you want to,” she settles on, her voice calm but convinced.

Byleth sighs almost angrily. “I’m _not_ doing it for her, Lady Rhea,” she says bitterly.

When Rhea hardly seems to acknowledge her hurt, simply looking her with a curious smile, she continues. “I’m doing it for _you._ ”

That, at least, gets a reaction out of the Archbishop. She blinks several times while her eyes say nothing as she's not at all understanding why she would be the motivation for Byleth’s choice.

“I don’t understand,” she says, her voice soft yet mildly confused. “Why would you care about what I wa-”

“Because I love you,” Byleth interrupts her impulsively, losing herself to her emotions.

She feels a painful tug at the edge of her mind and is pretty sure Sothis has just given her the mental equivalent of a slap in the face.

 _Rude,_ Byleth thinks, but not unfair. Byleth had been Sothis’s only ally in this fight, one where Sothis was already rather powerless, and now Byleth had betrayed her. Betrayed her by _confessing_ to the person who is currently both the enemy in her fight and her daughter. Byleth once again marvels at how utterly delicate this whole situation is and still doesn't quite understand how _she_ somehow became the deciding factor in it all.

Rhea’s mouth opens and closes several times before she can wipe the blank look from her face. Sadly, she regains her bearings quickly and instantly uses Byleth’s words to fuel the momentum of the uncomfortable path she already was on.

“Professor, it’s impossible for you to know what love is,” she tells her bluntly, although her body is tense.

Byleth glares at her. “I might not know that much about love,” she admits. “But there is no doubt in my mind that I hold feelings of love for you,” she finishes. Nervously she realizes she’s blushing. Well, maybe blushing will help Rhea convince her love is genuine.

Rhea doesn’t seem very interested in Byleth’s flustered expression, pays it no mind at all really. “You don’t know enough about me to love me,” she points out nonchalantly.

“I have your memories,” Byleth counters.

“You have my _Mother’s_ memories,” Rhea corrects her abruptly. “Which _means_ that any feelings you think you might be holding for me are nothing but an echo of the Goddess’s love for me,” she says airily, yet her voice wavers ever so slightly, as if she’s just as much trying to convince herself as well as Byleth.

Byleth is too taken aback by her words - her _implications-_ that she promptly forgets to respond. She doesn’t even know how to feel about this. Should she be upset, enraged, disturbed? She feels the uncanny urge to just laugh but is sure that wouldn't help at all. Does Rhea truly belief that Byleth’s –very romantic- love is a watered down version of the late Goddess’s motherly love for Rhea? The idea is disturbing to say the least. How many mental hoops does Rhea have to contort herself into to be able to claim this without a hint of discomfort or shame?

Rhea’s unnerving words at least serve to unify Byleth’s and Sothis’s minds again however, as she feels the Goddess’s indignation at Byleth for confessing to her daughter instantly being redirected to said daughter instead, as Sothis also is _way less_ than happy with Rhea’s twisted reasoning.

“My feelings for you are _not_ motherly, Lady Rhea,” Byleth hisses, raising her voice slightly in frustration.

Rhea turns to look uncomfortable, shifting in her chair and sitting more up straight, clearly unhappy at Byleth’s insistence at pulling Rhea out of her ‘reality’.

“You don’t know what love is,” she growls and the Archbishop mask begins to fracture and crumble. Her eyes are blank yet underneath it Byleth can feel the repressed anger and fear. “You had no soul when you were born,” Rhea tells her, with subdued rage and fear, which makes it seem like she’s afraid of the implications that Rhea might be _wrong,_ if only about a few things.

Byleth remains silent, feeling that letting Rhea get out of her chest what she _truly_ feels first will give her the opportunity to break down her arguments all at once afterwards.

“You do not have the capability to love on your own, Professor. All you can possibly do is mimic the feelings the Goddess has shared with you, and likely you are confused and incapable of how to interpreted them” Rhea goes on, her face devoid of emotion and her voice lifeless. She tries to at least, because Byleth can see flickers of fear, confusion, grief, longing all flash behind Rhea’s eyes. Even her voice isn’t completely monotone, as it wavers in pitch as Rhea struggles to keep speaking.

“You had no life when you were born, you were nothing but a husk which _I_ gave life to,” Rhea insists, her voice cracking slightly as she seems intent on throwing Byleth of her path to protect the fragile illusion she created for herself, no matter how much it will hurt Byleth in doing so.

Her words do hurt Byleth, but not enough to make her lose control. “You don’t know that,” she argues. “I had no _heartbeat_ when I was born, that is correct. But that says nothing about my soul.” Byleth ponders in thought for a moment. “Lady Rhea, do you even know how a soul manifests into a body? I might have been still born, a birth defect that prevented me to live, but even then I must have had a soul, one that would have never lived and grown. But still, as a newborn I had a soul, and you merged my soul with that of Sothis, or even just her heart.” Byleth points out.

Rhea looks at her with subdued anger, not liking what Byleth is telling her. Yes, because _what if it might be true?_ She wonders how Rhea will react when she accepts the reality she’s been denying herself for her own peace.

“Lady Rhea your experiments were clumsy at best, if not downright cruel. You have no idea what you are talking about when it comes to my soul.”

“Neither do you,” Rhea retorts in anger.

“I might not,” Byleth admits. “But no matter what you did to me, your experiment was a failure, Lady Rhea. For I _still_ don’t have a heartbeat." she tells her with confidence, then looks at her determined. "But despite that, I still learned how to _feel_.”

Rhea looks deeply uncomfortable now, even unsettled, as she tries to not acknowledge the things she has done to Byleth and those who came before her.

Byleth notices her silence and uses the opportunity to say what she wants to say. “Lady Rhea, you had no idea what you were doing while doing those experiments. You lacked the expertise and substituted that lack with your desperation. I _saw_ what you did to those before me. They suffered, Lady Rhea. They suffered in your arms as you suffered along with them, for you had grown to love them. You watched them all die, cradled in your arms as their bodies grew too weak to sustain them any longer.” Byleth finishes fiercely, before coming down from the passionate drive she was on.

Abruptly she thinks she might have pushed Rhea too far now because when she looks up to look at the Archbishop her eyes are instantly drawn to her eyes. They look beyond sad, all of her does. She looks utterly weak and deflated. As if she’s shouldering a burden that’s been way too heavy for her for a long time now. “I’m sorry,” Byleth mumbles, looking at the ground. “I shouldn’t have… confronted you like that.”

When she looks up to Rhea again she sees her eyes are wet and her shoulders are twitching as she’s struggling hard not to cry.

It hurts to see her like this, fractured between her Archbishop persona and the deeply rooted feelings of grief now threatening to slip through the cracks. She shouldn't have to repress everything and restrain herself constantly, Byleth thinks.

“Crying is not a flaw,” she says soothingly. “You don’t have to restrain yourself so much.”

Rhea is using all the self-restrain she has but still a few tears start rolling down her cheek regardless as she shakes her head in desperation.

Byleth fiercely wishes she could touch the other woman, just her hand or her shoulder, place a hand on her cheek. She wants to comfort her so badly. “You can cry, you seem to need it.” she repeats gently, almost encouraging Rhea.

Tears begin to spill from wide eyes, and Byleth can see the sorrow, guilt, grief and her deeply rooted inferiority complex all there pooling in the depths of her eyes.

She notices the fingers of both of Rhea’s hands unsuspiciously tapping frantically on the small table between them, perhaps out of nerves or out of a need to somehow physically express the heavy stress she’s under.

Byleth slowly hovers her own towards Rhea’s rhythmically tapping fingers. When Rhea notices Byleth’s hands she stills her fingers’ movements and glances at Byleth with both apprehension and a soft curiosity.

Once Byleth’s hand's are above hers she stills them and searches for the Archbishops eyes. When she finds the apprehension and fear diminished in favor of anticipation and curiosity she gives Rhea a confident smile.

“May I place my hands on top of yours?” She asks sincerely, with the gentle hope Rhea will let her.

Rhea gives her a wary look but the curiosity and _something_ in her eyes win from the wariness. She flattens her hands on the table. “Yes...You may, if you wish,” she mutters, her voice so quiet as if she half wished Byleth hadn’t heard it.

Feeling rather ecstatic at the prospect of being able to touch Rhea’s hands, she lowers her own hands slowly down until they come to rest on the pale fingers and hands of the Holy Archbishop. 

When her fingers cover and curl around of the Archbishop’s own the woman gasps softly and then breathes out contently.

A wave of curiosity comes over Byleth as she notices the calming effect her touch has on the other woman

Creativity had never been Byleth’s greatest skill but when she gently brushes and strokes along Rhea’s delicate fingers the other woman seems to completely relax under her touch. Her eyes flutter shut, with drying tears still on her cheeks and her breathing slows down to a steady and gentle rhythm. Occasionally she’ll inhale softly when Byleth’s fingers gently brush along a sensitive spot. Much to Byleth's surprise and equal elation Rhea seems to genuinely enjoy what Byleth is doing, as she accepts her touches, even welcomes them as she simply, contently lets it happen.

She wonders how long it's been since someone has touched Rhea in a gentle and innocent manner such as this- or touched her at all for that matter- as she can't imagine that people are allowed to touch or even come to close to someone of Rhea's position. She must feel so alone and distant from everyone, as she's so far removed from everyone around her. 

Byleth gently keeps stroking her hands until all the tension has dissipated from her fingers and then carefully flips Rhea’s hands over.

Rhea gives her a slightly unsure look but doesn’t complain. Byleth starts brushing the palms of her hands with her fingers, extending her ministrations all the way up to from Rhea’s fingertips and down to Rhea’s wrists. The older woman occasionally sucks in a breath or meet Byleth’s eyes with lidded eyes and the tiniest insecure smile on her lips. Every time she does so Byleth momentarily forgets how to breathe, yet she continues keeps touching Rhea exactly where she seems to find it most pleasant.

Byleth keeps doing this for a while, gently kneading all the tension out of Rhea’s hands. The Archbishop seems completely content by now, eyes closed and breathing softly, even her shoulders are slumped and she’s leaning backwards against her chair in comfort, Byleth thinks that seeing Rhea like this is one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.

Feelings of tenderness, affection and of course, love begin to rise in Byleth’s chest, clouding her mind with bliss and the high of being able to touch Rhea in a way that is pleasant for both of them- something she never expected to happen. 

Hazily and with lidded eyes she looks once more at Rhea’s face, who senses her gaze and opens her eyes to glance back. Byleth’s breath hitches ever so slightly at the sight. Rhea has a blush on her face, her eyes are lidded too and her mouth is slightly open as she breathes calmly,

Seeing her like this is overwhelming. Sothis might be the Goddess, but right now it’s Rhea who is the most Divine thing Byleth has ever seen. The entire essence of Rhea takes over her mind and she becomes all Byleth can think of.

“You’re so utterly beautiful,” she mutters softly yet elated. She looks the Archbishop in the eyes and her feelings of adoration and love grow so much she can’t help having to express them.

“I truly love you, Lady Rhea,” Byleth murmurs, feeling slightly giddy.

When she looks at the Archbishop however, she feels her breath being taken away violently and all the warm and loving feelings she had been feeling turn icy cold.

Rhea’s relaxed and satisfied expression abruptly disappears and she looks at Byleth with blank yet piercing look. It frightens Byleth and she finds herself desperately wishing she could get away from those piercing eyes.

Without hesitation Rhea pulls her hands away from Byleth’s and folds them protectively on her own lap. The loss of warmth feels like a slap in the face for Byleth and suddenly she feels very alone.

Rhea sneers at her. “You have no idea what emotions mean and so you have no _right_ to claim you love me.” Her voice is cracking, it’s hoarse and uncontrolled and Byleth can hear the pain she’s feeling in her words.

Despite the pain evident in Rhea’s voice Byleth growls at her in frustration, enraged at Rhea’s stubborn insistence on clinging to delusions. She’s a person, damnit. She can think for herself. Tears threaten to well up in her eyes but she steels herself so she can say what she needs Rhea to hear.

“I damn well do, Rhea,” Byleth spats angrily, the nice and gentle feelings now completely gone. “I love you. No, I’m _in_ love with you.”

Confused and overwhelmed Rhea loses her temper and raises her voice. “In _love_ with me? How _dare_ you?!” She drawls.

“Yes, how dare I.” Byleth retorts defiantly. “And so help me Lady Rhea, do _not_ force me to prove or define the nature of my love for you because I _will_ point out exactly how my love for you differs from your Mother’s love, and trust me that just will serve to make the _both_ of us very uncomfortable.”

Distress crawls into Rhea’s features and she seemingly struggles to come up with something to say, something to counter Byleth with, but she keeps faltering, too distraught by her inner turmoil and the prospect of having to talk about such delicate things she’s dreads to even think of.

Byleth realizes that even if Rhea could think of what she wants to say- likely something about the complex nature of love- the Archbishop would never be able to put it in words, not under all the stress, conflict, shame, fear and dread she’s currently threatening to break under.

She frantically glances at Byleth once more, who simply watches Rhea trying to find her words, but no matter what, they won’t come. Frustration pours out of Rhea’s expression as she opens and closes her mouth several times.

Moments later she sighs in resignation and hangs her head slightly.

“…”

“That’s what I thought,” Byleth mutters stubbornly and hurt when the Archbishop remains silent.

There is a tense silence between the two of them for a long moment, but Byleth can see Rhea is already on another line of thought.

She struggles with herself and her thoughts momentarily, before taking a deep breath and looks out the window, as if the distraction of the soothing sunlight will help her find the strength she needs to talk.

“I’m not sure,” she starts tentatively, her voice unsure, “just how many of my memories you have access to, but from what I gathered you seem to have seen me in my most darkest and desperate moments…” Suddenly she still, her body trembles, and her eyes turn haunted.

She slowly turns her head to Byleth, and when she speaks her voice is eerily quiet. “You cannot love me Byleth,” she drawls, her voice soft yet high, fragile. “If you have truly seen me in my darkest moments there is no way for you to even feel a shred of love, or even of pity for me.” She stands up from her chair and with unexpected speed she’s in front of Byleth, who responds by unintentionally squirming back into her own chair and putting her hands in front of her chest out of some sort of useless instinctive self-preservation.

“I’ve seen more than that, you know.” Byleth counters her gently. “Brighter things, beautiful things, all in you. And even in the darker moments I found glimmers of beauty that I fell in love with.” She’s smiling at the memories without even realizing it.

She had hoped to soothe the Archbishop with her words, to give her some reprieve of the darkness she clings to so desperately, but when Byleth looks at her face all she sees is growing panic and crumbling self-control.

It was too much to take for Rhea, Byleth realizes guiltily. The woman who had been hiding all the dark and painful things she’d been doing -with herself getting hurt in the middle of it all- feels now utterly exposed to someone who has secretly seen her do it all.

“I’m sorry, Lady Rhea,” she mumbles genuinely. “I shouldn’t have trespassed on your private memories like that.” She shakes her head apologetically. “I would have avoided seeing them at all if I had known how…it’s wrong. They are your private moments.”

Rhea gives her a weary look and Byleth notices how exhausted she looks.

She wants to reach out to Rhea- she’s still so close- but the nature of their relationship just distorts any sort of physical contact.

Awkwardly she shifts in her chair, fumbling with the hem of her sleeve. “…Is there anything I can do for you Lady Rhea?” she asks gently, fiercely wishing she could. She just wants to be there for Rhea so badly.

The Archbishop shakes her head sadly and Byleth sees the beginning of tears pool in her eyes.

“…Just leave me alone, please,” is all she whispers, sounding almost pleading.

Byleth nods, respecting her wish. Mercifully Rhea backs away from her so Byleth has the space to get up from her chair without being uncomfortable close.

She glances at Rhea but the woman is no longer meeting her eyes. With a soft sigh she walks to the door. Truthfully she feels some relief at the prospect of being away from Rhea who is in such deep emotional turmoil and whom Byleth can’t seem to reach out to, not to mention the heavy tension in the room.

It makes her feel guilty.

She feels so useless.

As she reaches the door handle a nagging question floods her conscious. She turns her head around to look at the Archbishop, who is giving her a tentative look when she senses Byleth’s hesitation.

“I cannot help but wonder, Lady Rhea,” she muses out loud. “Aren’t you at all afraid I will still make a run for it and ruin the Holy Ceremony?”

Rhea looks at her with an indescribable look -calculating and assessing- before she smiles lightly at Byleth.

And Byleth feels her heart sink, because that’s _not_ a good smile.

“No matter what you think you are or what you are feeling, you are still the vessel for the Goddess and it’s written in your body, into your heart, that you wish to bring her back, so I’m confident you’ll do the Holy Ceremony, no matter what.” When Rhea sees the anger and defiance flare up in Byleth’s expression she casually adds, “And if you somehow think that won’t be enough then let me assure you the Goddess will guide you exactly where you need to go.” The pleasant smile she gives Byleth sends her straight past anger and right into rage.

Byleth groans in frustration and bristles in anger. How _dare_ this woman.

Fuming she exits the room with haste, no longer able to bear to be in Rhea’s presence. When she steps out into the hall- into freedom- she slams the door back into the frame with as much force as she can muster.

_Damn this woman._


	2. The true feelings of the Vessel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth tries to apologize to Rhea.  
> Rhea has no idea how to handle it and rushes through several intense emotions at lighting speed, dragging Byleth along with her.

The days following their ‘incident’ leave Byleth stuck in an odd state of perpetually surreal amusement, caused solely by Rhea’s -hardly noticeable- yet rather absurd behavior. The Archbishop’s newfound habit of being completely unsure as how to handle herself around the professor is precisely what keeps Byleth so entertained.

It’s not that often they need to meet, but the Monastery isn’t that all big and the both of them have a lot of places to be throughout each day, with several of them overlapping. It’s enough to keep the Archbishop in a continuous state of being _very_ on edge, and every time she does run into Byleth- if she so much as passes her by or sees her all the way across one of the large halls across Garreg Mach- she’s visibly shaken.

Byleth has made it a point to ensure the whole experience is _just_ a tad harder on the already struggling Archbishop by giving her -completely socially acceptable- sweet smiles or polite waves in greeting whenever she can.

And every time without fail the Archbishop subtly looks as if she wants to cry.

Sothis isn’t helping Rhea’s cause either, as Byleth feels an almost gleeful amusement bubble up in her mind -which Byleth easily tells apart from her own feelings- when a very meek looking Archbishop exits the room she and Byleth were both in with controlled haste. 

Byleth can tell she keeps getting better at recognizing Sothis’s feelings separately and alongside her own and she also thinks that Sothis has been getting better at letting Byleth know what she's feeling. As before Byleth would only feel a spark or a vague sensation when Sothis’s emotions reached a fever pitch, causing them to inadvertently bleed into Byleth’s mind. But now it feels more as if the Goddess can almost freely choose to share her feelings with Byleth and keep those she doesn’t want to share for herself. In any case, Byleth thinks, their bond is getting more stable, more tangible. Somehow.

To Byleth’s surprise the Goddess was doing rather the opposite of what Byleth had expected, as Sothis apparently also found the way Rhea was skittish and nervous around Byleth thoroughly amusing,

Byleth briefly wonders how she ought to feel about a mother who is amused by what is essentially her own daughter being bullied, and not for the first time she asks to herself just how much, or what parts of Sothis had made it into Byleth, because she cannot phantom the possibility that _all_ of the progenitor Goddess, who could create life and control time and numerous other things, was somehow compressed completely into something that would enable all of her to fit into a mortal body.

This Sothis, although fully capable of thoughts, memories and feelings seems fractured somehow. As if only a part, a fragment of her made it into Byleth’s mind and the rest of all her vastness and true godliness is still somewhere out of reach, out of this world. Perhaps the way she feels about Rhea has been fractured too, Byleth thinks to herself. The thought hurts because that if the case Rhea might get hurt so much more once Sothis revives.

In truth, Byleth feels bad for Rhea. Her amusement at the woman’s skittishness whenever she’s around is nothing compared to the deep need she has to be there for her and comfort her. To assure her she doesn’t need to be so afraid.

She really wishes it wasn't herself who was the source of discomfort and fright for Rhea.

But seeing as the Archbishop stubbornly insists on staying away from Byleth as best as she can without it being obvious to anyone, gracefully darting around her and keeping their interactions –whenever she’s obligated to- to the most cold and formal minimum, she completely denies Byleth the option to act on her feelings of care for Rhea and so Byleth had settled on amusing herself with her odd behavior from a distance instead.

It’s even somewhat comforting that Rhea struggles so much to be around Byleth, as it means her words must have gotten to the woman in some way. Only Byleth can’t exactly figure out what it is she said that has shaken the Archbishop so badly, as even in the last moment she seemed confident Byleth was still nothing more than a soulless vessel.

She’ll have to find a way to figure that out sooner or later. Preferably sooner as she only has until the end of the moon and if she leaves it up to Rhea the woman will likely be dancing around the subject -and Byleth- until then. So while Rhea might be willing to settle for avoidance, Byleth is determined to find out. The thought of hurting and unsettling Rhea for so long with her mere presence is something she simply can’t stomach.

Today is an unlucky day for Rhea however, as it is a Sunday. And on Sunday’s the Archbishop gives sermons to the students of Garreg Mach- and per extend their _teachers_ as well.

Despite Byleth’s plan to diminish the ways she’s been passively hurting Rhea by being physical present in this world she is anticipating the sermon with gleeful joy.

So Byleth finds herself seated in the benches of the Cathedral- deliberately rather close to the front- along with her students, who have chosen seats closely around her. It’s when Edelgard – _Lady_ Edelgard, Byleth reminds herself, still unused to these titles, and now a one is a _princess,_ the nobility insist on using for each other- is asking her about the nature and structure of the Church’s ways (which Byleth is rather clueless about and she almost messes up as she tries to hide her lack of knowledge by saying something about Rhea herself instead of adhering to her as the Archbishop, the sacred link between the transcendent and the secular and all of those divine aspects that come with that) when said Archbishop makes her entrance.

As common courtesy dictates the hall immediately quiets down- saving Byleth from her own disastrous attempt at matching _Lady_ Edelgard’s knowledge on the Faith. She suddenly misses the wide open grasslands and dense forests she’d endlessly roam. Now she even wields her sword in a different manner, to align herself with the rigid structure of the Monastery and its ways of conduct.

Rhea all but glides into the middle of the stage and Byleth is sure it’s only her who notices the slight stutter in her step when Rhea’s eyes fall on Byleth, and before she can avert her gaze again Byleth gives her an innocent smile, to which Rhea’s eyes widen ever so slightly in fear and her eyes nervously dart away from Byleth.

Byleth grins and can’t help but feel rather smug about her small victory.

The victory is however, very temporary because the moment Rhea starts to speak Byleth suddenly feels a tightening in her chest, a deep ache where her heart should be beating. She has no idea what it means, or how to even begin to describe it, but the only way to soothe the ache in hear heart is to feverishly listen and cling to every worth the Archbishop speaks. And Rhea manages to perform her sermon with all of her usual grace and an almost sacred conviction, keeping the hall silent and focused on her the entire time. Byleth finds herself so utterly mesmerized and deeply touched by Rhea’s words it's as if nothing exists but Rhea while she speaks, not even Byleth herself, who has been stripped of her body and all her senses, even her ears, yet Rhea's words are still audible to her, reverberating straight into Byleth's soul. 

She's so deeply enthralled by Rhea she feels a sudden deep pain in her chest when she becomes aware the sermon is ending and Rhea is reciting the closure scriptures already.

Byleth struggles to shake off her daze and ground herself in the present to regain her senses. 

With a sense of shame she realizes she has either vastly overestimated the effect she was having on Rhea or grossly underestimated the inner strength the woman has to perform perfectly under stress and anxiety.

Either way, it makes her feel guilty so determinedly she makes up her mind to make amends for her unnecessary actions.

With the sermon finished the people are now either gathering to leave or staying longer for conversation, Byleth quickly excuses herself to her students and hurries over to Rhea, who had already left the stage and is now standing in a corner surrounded by some Knights and Bishops who seemed intent on discussing something with her.

While still sometimes unused to it, the former mercenary is by now well aware of her social standing as a teacher, a highly respected -although ultimately without any political or religious influence- position at the Monastery. She invokes her rights that come with the position and appropriately mingles herself with the Archbishop’s small group of high ranking individuals, much to Rhea’s (barely noticeable) dismay.

Byleth politely waits for an opening before raising her voice. “Archbishop,” she starts, bowing in the appropriate greeting, and promptly realizes she’ll have to wing the rest of what she wants to say because all she has going for herself so far is a strong urge to apologize for something she doesn’t fully understand the nature of. Not to mention she can’t risk disrespecting or revealing something about Rhea in front of her subordinates.

“I have a confession to make,” she starts and when she sees the eyes of everyone present widen she quickly corrects herself when she realizes she’s already made a mistake with her choice in words. “Not the… ah, _confessional_ sort of confession,” she says jokingly and is relieved when she sees Rhea’s Bishops and Knights smile and be at ease once more.

“It’s more of a personal apology,” she explains. “I feel as I might have been… too harsh in my ways of trying to understand the Faith and the Goddess when we spoke the other day.” When she feels tension rise again, not in the least in Rhea herself, she quickly continues. “It was not out of any sort of contempt or disrespect, I assure you. It solely stemmed from my frustration at my own lack of understanding.”

She glances around the circle of people, who look at her with mild interest and friendliness. “After having giving it some more of my thoughts I have come to the conclusion that my curiosity was what was rude of me in the first place, as the Faith –and certainly the Goddess herself- deserves to be met with much more delicacy than my crude need for understanding ever could.” She directly meets Rhea’s eyes with her own for the first time now and briefly holds her gaze as she gives her an apologetic smile. “And for that I wish to apologize to you, Lady Rhea. It was not my intention to offend you or the Faith,” she says as gently as she can without making it apparent to the other people present that her apology is a much more deeply personal than she can express in front of them.

Rhea keeps holding their gaze -perhaps a moment too long to be considered casual or formal- and then gives Byleth a careful smile. “Thank you, to hear that from you means a lot to me,” she says softly and the emotion present in her voice only adds to the apparent lack of professional formality in their interaction, causing Rhea’s subordinates to glance at Byleth with a sudden newfound interest.

Before they can speak however, Rhea continues. “I assure you that no offense was taken, Professor.” She laughs quietly and the sound is so melodious that Byleth is momentarily convinced everyone around her must surely sense the feelings of love suddenly rising in her chest.

Her fear is quickly extinguished when she realizes no one is acting as if they noticed it and, after feeling slightly foolish for believing such a thing to be possible, she lets the thought go and focuses on Rhea’s words again. “I am well acquainted with the sentiment of struggling to understand the ways the Divine chooses to manifest in the world.” Something deeply fragile flashes across her eyes, but it’s gone before even Byleth can be fully sure she saw it correctly. “Such a feeling is nothing to be ashamed of.” Rhea tells her tranquilly and gives her a warm compassionate, yet still somehow passive smile.

Byleth feels slightly taken aback by her response and is unsure if Rhea is merely playing along in keeping up their act in front of the others or if her words have a deeper and more personal meaning.

Remembering the brief fragility in her eyes, it must be the latter, she settles on.

At a loss of what to do she bows slightly and thanks Rhea for her kindness. One of her Bishops gives Byleth a slight tap on the shoulder with his hands when she rises and gives her a kind smile. “Your ability to reflect on your actions and make amends accordingly becomes you, Professor,” he tells her. “No matter what transgression you committed, I’m convinced the Goddess forgives you and admires your strength of character,” he adds. His words feel kind to Byleth but she notices Rhea’s eyes widen ever so slightly in fear.

She understands her discomfort at his words very well. It’s clear acknowledgment of Byleth’s individuality and her capability of personal choice.

Fearing Rhea might not be able to keep her mask intact for much longer, Byleth thinks it’s best to leave for now. She doesn’t want to cause her any more distress than she already has. She smiles at the Bishop and thanks him for his kind words, telling him that they have soothed her consciousness, before bowing and wishing her goodbyes to the rest and turning to make her leave.

She’s already several paces away when she hears graceful footsteps follow behind her. “Professor,” Rhea tentatively calls after her.

When she turns around Rhea is a few steps away from her, now standing in between her circle of subordinates and Byleth. She looks unsure of herself for a moment before something akin to determination settles on her features and she quietly exhales. “Would you be able to visit me in my chambers today?” She asks carefully, almost warily. “I have something I ought to share with you… regarding the conversation we had earlier, about the Goddess.”

Byleth feels her heart flutter at the hint of hopefulness evident in Rhea’s voice and finds herself nodding before she can even consider truly it. “At noon?” she suggests. She immediately worries if it’s not too soon as it’s already late in the morning but Rhea only smiles. “Noon would be ideal.” She gives Byleth a small nod and wishes her goodbye as she turns around and moves back into her circle, some of which glance or smile at Byleth with a look that says ‘well aren’t _you_ special’.

Byleth can’t help but smile sheepishly, feeling slightly put on the spot, before politely announcing her leave once more and finally walking away.

* * *

Relieved to be outside, in the sun and away from the somehow incredibly heavy shroud of Faith that clings to every inch of the Cathedral- and every inch of Rhea- Byleth almost happily darts around the Monastery until she finds some of her students lounging on or around some of the chairs in the grass and decides to join them.

“Did the Archbishop truly reprimand you this long?” Linhardt asks her, surprising Byleth as she thought the boy, who is lying in the grass with his eyes closed, had been asleep.

She chuckles at his words but before she can tell him otherwise she notices Edelgard flashing him an annoyed look -which he cannot possibly see, much to Byleth’s amusement- and speaks up instead. “Linhardt, it’s hardly conceivable the Professor would do something to warrant any sort of serious reprimanding from the Archbishop, you _know_ in what high esteem the Archbishop and the rest of the Church hold her.” She chides him just a tad sternly.

Byleth smiles inwardly, if only she knew. Sure, there is a _part_ of Byleth which Rhea holds in high esteem, but the rest of her, well… not so much. Not to mention the rest of the Church –those of which who actively involve themselves with Byleth, at least- mostly consists of Seteth, and Byleth watched him grow more and more suspicious of her almost directly proportional with the pace Rhea got more openly affectionate with her.

He might not know what the Archbishop sees in her but he knows full well that whatever it is, it’s definitely not a _good_ thing.

There had been times Byleth hadn’t understood how she hadn’t been fired already, what with how clunky and gracelessly she navigated her way through everything Church related. She might as well have been swinging her sword at the Church with how dreadfully lacking her knowledge- and with that, her respect- of the whole Faith altogether had been. It confounded her especially after her father had died, as he had been the one strong link between her and the Monastery. Surely her teaching skills alone couldn’t make up for her lack of… everything else?

But now she understood why they kept her around –or at least why Rhea insisted on keeping her around, despite Seteth’s clear wish of seeing things differently.

Ironically it had been thanks to the Goddess whom she knew nothing about that she had learned just why Rhea needed her close so badly.

“It’s true I had an apology to make to the Archbishop,” Byleth admits to her students. When she receives an immediate chorus of protests in her defense she playfully shushes them and gestures for them to quiet down. “I wasn’t reprimanded, I apologized on my own volition,” she explained. “I didn’t do anything to offend the Church or the Archbishop, I simply felt I overstepped personal boundaries in a conversation we had a while ago,” she finishes, hoping to soothe her fiercely protective students a little.

They respect the Archbishop –to varying degrees- but they are all slightly uncomfortable by how rigid and uncannily unyielding she always seems to be when it comes to the Faith, despite her apparent kindness and gentleness. Byleth secretly thinks they’re just a little afraid of her, much to her own amusement. She does have this imposing aura, after all.

Hubert smiles at her. “It’s a good thing to make sure one stays in the good graces of her Holiness,” he says wryly. “Even if one has to suffer a minor dent in their dignity while doing so.”

“ _Hubert!_ ” Edelgard hisses at him, although even she seems slightly amused. “You mustn’t imply such things, and I’m confident our teacher can make amends to the Archbishop without ‘suffering a dent in her dignity’,” she adds with utmost confidence.

Byleth feels herself soften a bit at the unwavering confidence her students always seem to have in her. Well, she had to earn it at first. These –mostly highbred and noble- teenagers don’t simply willingly subject themselves to just any commoner. But she had managed to win their respect fairly quickly with her display of her skills in battle, teaching said skills to the students and her general aura of calm pragmatism. Once she had their respect, their confidence and loyalty had soon followed.

And it’s because of that they even somewhat accept it when she tells them she has to leave soon to meet with the Archbishop, in her personal chambers no less.

“Be careful though,” Hubert can’t help but joke. “You might go in a free woman and come out a converted and devout Bishop.”

Ferdinand elbows him firmly in the side just before Edelgard can get her hands on him as well. Causing Hubert to sputter indignantly, offended at the sheer audacity of the both of them. The verbal and physical scuffle that follows causes Byleth to break into suppressed laughter at the ever illustrious trio.

It’s hard to imagine that these three are to lead a country one day. That is, if Edelgard keeps Hubert as close to her politically as she does in their friendship and Ferdinand makes good on his promise to be the rival –and political ally- he insists Edelgard needs him to be.

Although maybe it’s precisely their closeness that will make them excellent in their future roles in ruling Adrestria. At least they have the ability to keep each other in check, she muses to herself.

She makes her leave a little while later, wishing them a pleasant afternoon while they not so subtly wish for her to not suffer too much in her upcoming meeting.

Her students have lifted her spirits and she lightly makes her way over to the Archbishop’s chambers once more.

This time there are no feelings of dread or spite clinging to her when she knocks on the wooden door. She knows Rhea will likely not be as kind and polite as she made it sound like she would be in front of her subordinates, but Byleth just doesn’t have it in her any longer to fear the Archbishop after having seen her be so ridiculously skittish at Byleth’s mere presence for days now.

Rhea can anger, hurt and upset her all she wants but Byleth won’t lose sight of the frightened and vulnerable women underneath all her layers and masks. Whatever she’ll say to hurt Byleth, it won’t cling to her.

The Archbishop opens the door with the exact same smile and expression as the previous time, making Byleth wonder if she practiced the act.

After she lets Byleth in and closes the door she drops the smile however, apparently no longer bothering with keeping up her persona in front of Byleth.

But she doesn’t look vindictive or even calculated, just weary and perhaps even sad.

Byleth suddenly feels a sharp tug in her mind, followed by a strange lack of… of something. With a start she realizes it was Sothis letting her know she wasn’t in the mood for Byleth’s shenanigans with her daughter and somehow _left._ Byleth feels the urge to shout at her, yell at her that if she had the ability to leave she should have done so _much_ earlier. But she knows if she says that out loud right now Sothis won’t be around to hear it, yet her daughter _will._

As Byleth is still not very keen on exposing to Rhea just how present her Mother in Byleth head is- but apparently, not _all_ the time- she with some annoyance lets the thought go. For now at least.

Her eyes focus on Rhea once again, who seemed unbothered by her lapse of silence.

Rhea looks at her with an almost numb expression. “It was kind of you to apologize,” she says softly as she sits down in the same chair as the previous time. She glances briefly at Byleth and it’s the only tell that she expects Byleth to sit down as well.

When she does Rhea looks at her with an odd and weary kindness in her eyes. “You even managed to do so covertly enough that no one noticed the deeper meaning of your words.” She gives Byleth a small smile, and Byleth notice it’s only slightly forced. “You were very delicate in your words, and for that you have my thanks.”

Byleth nods. “That is kind of you to say, but you don’t need to be grateful to, Lady Rhea. I…I just wanted to let you know that I felt I’ve been cruel to you as a result of my frustrations with your feelings.” She looks at Rhea sadly. “You don’t deserve my cruelty, you have it hard enough as it is,” she adds in a barely audible tone.

Rhea’s eyes turn cold at her words and Byleth fears she has already invoked her anger somehow. Yet when she speaks it’s evident her coldness isn’t directed towards Byleth.

“There is no cruelty in this world I do not deserve, Professor,” she says wearily and sighs once again, before glancing outside through the window. “If you can truly feel things the way you insist you do then it’s your hatred that I deserve… that I _want.”_ Her voice is tight yet monotonous.

She keeps staring out the window and only the slightest tension in her shoulders and how she rigidly flexes the fingers of one of her hands reveals she’s feeling something at all.

Byleth feels overcome by the need to reach out to her, to soothe her pain, if even just a little.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, Lady Rhea. I think you have been etched too deeply into my heart for that to be possible.” She smiles at the thought but then shakes her head gently as she considers the implications. “I might be loyal to you to a fault by now,” she tells Rhea without a trace of accusation, “Because even when I think of all the different ways you could hurt me, with hatred or torture or… anything really, I know I’ll still gladly give you my heart in the end.” Her voice plainly reveals the adoration she feels – knows that she’d still feel- if Rhea would truly commit herself to hurting Byleth.

She’s well aware that someone having such deep feelings of devotion to someone who is abusing them isn’t very healthy but she reasons that there isn’t anything very healthy about willingly and gladly dying for the person you love so they can have their Mother back -while they don’t care for you at all- either. And seeing as Byleth is firmly committed to the prospect of doing so and has wholly made peace with her decision as well, she idly dismisses the notion of caring about if any of this is ‘unhealthy’.

It feels right, and Byleth has grown to trust her feelings. She spend most of her life without feeling or understanding them much, so she is determined to meet the end of her life feeling every emotion under the sun.

Rhea had been stubbornly staring out of the window in order to purposely ignore Byleth while she had been speaking to her, but now after a long moment of silence since had Byleth stopped speaking her resolve crumbles rather instantly. Byleth notices something dark flicker across Rhea’s eyes and her fingers twitch momentarily.

Abruptly she turns her head to face Byleth, her expression as hard as stone, and slightly bends over the small table separating the two of them. It makes her look imposing to say the least and Byleth inadvertently swallows and tenses as fear creeps into her body.

Rhea’s expression might be deliberately muted but Byleth can clearly tell the malice in her eyes and smile, which only adds to unnerve her even more.“Tell me, Professor,” She drawls cruelly, yet her voice is unsteady. “Did you truly watch me while I was creating life after life after life?

Byleth feels herself pale and can only find it in herself to nod weakly. Rhea seems pleased with her confirmation and smiles. “Good,” she says almost cheerily.

Abruptly and in one smooth movement she gets up from her chair and proceeds to pace almost elegantly around the room with uncanny grace, perhaps in an attempt to get away from Byleth or maybe she’s just desperate to move freely, too restless to remain still, Byleth has no idea.

Byleth watches as Rhea aimlessly moves across the wooden floor until she slowly twirls around her own axis before continuing her vaguely dance-like movements. When she's faced away from Byleth she speaks to the emptiness in the room. “Then surely you saw them all die one by one too?” She asks Byleth without turning to look a her, then shakes her head lightly. “Oh wait, I know you have, you told me so just the other day," she says, pretending to gently chide herself for her supposed forgetfulness.

She clasps her hands behind her, stilling her dance like steps as she turns around to face Byleth again, her expression like ice as she look expectantly at Byleth.

Again, Byleth only nods, too overwhelmed by Rhea’s intense and disturbing demeanor.

Rhea gives her a long thoughtful look before a small smile ghosts over her features. Her voice is melodious when she speaks but somehow it’s all wrong, distorted.

“I loved them you know. All of them.”

“I know,” Byleth tells her softly. “I saw how much you loved them, how you spend time with all of them, how you held them close,” she almost whispers, as if it’s forbidden to say it out loud. It feels so wrong to force these things to the light for Rhea, even if it’s her who does so.

“I saw how you struggled frantically and succumbed to desperation each time you learned they were dying,” her voice is soft but the pain she feels is etched into the tone.

Rhea gives her a hard stare, anger flickering through her eyes yet she can’t fully mask how painful it is for her to talk about this.

“And you still claim you feel love for me.” She states blankly, both her expression and voice telling Byleth she doesn’t believe her at all.

“I do, Lady Rhea, I swear I do.” Byleth insists with urgency. ”I won’t defend your actions, I know what you did was wrong. But I…” she hesitates as she feverishly looks for the words to articulate what she’s feeling. “I didn’t see a monster performing inhuman experiments for her own selfish desire. Instead…instead I saw something akin to a mother loving and losing their children one by one, getting herself so deep into something she wasn't capable of handling.”

A tremor runs through Rhea and her stance momentarily wavers, causing her to take a step in order to rebalance herself. Seemingly unaware of it she rises her hands to the front of her chest and clenches then into trembling fists, a way for her body to express the stress it’s under, before she notices what she’s doing and promptly lets her hands drop to her sides again. She looks at Byleth with fragile uncertainly, not sure how to take Byleth’s stance on herself.

“Your way of assessing my actions makes no sense, Professor,” Rhea tells her rigidly, as if she’s struggling to control herself.

Byleth shifts awkwardly in her chair and gives Rhea, who is both glaring at her and trembling in fear, a guilty smile. “Those are but a few of the many memories I have of you.” She admits, still not at ease with knowing so much about Rhea without her consent. “So many of them show sides of you that balance and at to the parts you I saw in these fragments.”

She exhales deeply. “I also saw you, after they passed away. You were grieving, Lady Rhea. Yet your tears were as much for their passing as they were out of the anger and hatred you felt for yourself. …You have mourned so much, but never peacefully. It all only served hurt you more, maybe it hurt you too much.” In a whisper she adds, “I truly mean it when I say you don’t deserve all that you’ve suffered through.”

Rhea looks at her with confused anger, as if Byleth is getting dangerously close to something even Rhea can’t let herself dwell on without feeling agony.

“I do not want your pity, Professor. I want your hatred and disgust, which I rightfully deserve.” Something indescribable flickers through her eyes and in a lapse of self-control she whispers. “Please, I think you might be the only person who can judge me for the numerous sins I have committed.”

Byleth gently shakes her head. “I am in no position to do so, Lady Rhea. And judgment is certainly not what I think you need or deserve.”

She hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to express to Rhea how she feels. “I’ll admit that when I first saw those memories I was appalled by what you were doing,” she starts and Rhea immediately tenses, looking as if she’s already sorely regretting expressing her desire to be judged as she seems incapable having to merely be subjected to _hearing_ about her supposed sins.

Still Byleth feels she has to continue, to let Rhea see the whole picture like she is. “They were clearly suffering and I couldn’t understand what you were gaining from making them suffer like that.”

Rhea is starting to look increasingly pale and Byleth fears she might either faint or forcefully drag Byleth out of her chambers if she doesn’t soon stop tearing open her wounds instead of soothing her pain.

“When I got more memories I started to understand, Lady Rhea, and I subsequently lost the ability to judge you for your actions.” She tries to meet Rhea’s eyes in an attempt to reassure her but the Archbishop averts her gaze the moment she tries to do so.

Feeling slightly discouraged, Byleth makes an effort to get herself to continue. “Instead I found myself fiercely wishing I could somehow break through time and comfort you. I longed to be there for you, to be _with_ you so I could maybe shoulder some of your pain.” She shakes her head dismissively. “But I knew that was impossible. And I considered how selfish that need was, regardless. It would have been intrusive to say the least.”

She realizes her fingers are fidgeting and it’s a tell that she’s nervous, a feeling Byleth still doesn't experience all that often, despite now being much more in tune with her emotions. She doesn’t stop doing it, however, thinking that maybe it will help the both of them feel more at ease.

“It took me some more time to understand what I was feeling when I saw those memories but once I realized it was love I found myself at peace with everything I had seen.”

With determination and acceptance she looks at Rhea, who finally glances in her direction again. “I have known for some time that I am simply yet another of your experiments, one of a different nature but still, and I accepted the fate you need to bring upon me, I understand how important it is that the Goddess returns." _That your mother returns to you_ she silently says in her head. "My life will not have been in vain and I have resolved myself to spend the time I have left to make you happy.” Byleth finishes and manages to smile at Rhea, although she feels terribly insecure.

Something akin to shock courses through Rhea’s body and instantly it’s hard to breathe for Byleth, or move at all for that matter. It’s as if the temperature drops to a freezing point while simultaneously the tension rises to a feverish heat.

There is panic in Rhea’s eyes. No, not just panic, _feral_ panic.

Byleth knows about her true form and her true name and knows that both of those iterations of the Archbishop could kill her effortlessly in an instant. When Byleth mistakenly stammers the Archbishop’s name her feral expression turns enraged.

Rhea takes one rigid step into Byleth’s direction and suddenly she’s way too close for comfort. On a frightened impulse Byleth scurries out of her chair in haste, almost tripping in the process as she’s desperate to get away, to at least get the freedom to move.

She’s a few panicked paces away from Rhea before stopping herself and turning around. Rhea is still standing near the table, her body has shifted so her eyes could follow Byleth’s direction, but otherwise she remains unmoving.

Byleth feels bolted to the floor, unsure what action would evoke the least amount of wrath or fear from the Archbishop.

She can hardly bear the tension in the room any longer, it might as well be magic, and she knows Rhea is able to freely use such magic whenever she wants.

“Lady Rhea,” Byleth says softly and with utmost reverence in her tone. “I don’t know what you want me to do…”

Rhea takes a moment to calm herself, at least enough so she can speak. “What I want _Professor,”_ she says eerily quiet, "Is for you to stop _lying_ to me.” Her voice is calm on the surface but Byleth can hear the raging turmoil underneath it.

Byleth looks at her with clear confusion. “What, lying? I don’t understand…” She mutters uncertainly.

Rhea's eyes darken, almost as if Byleth loses worth to her with every word she says. “Oh you didn’t think I would catch on to your lies, did you? Well, you can stop pretending because your lies are so _blatantly_ obvious it’s pathetic,” Rhea tells her, clearly attempting to sound condescending.

Her words take away most of Byleth’s fear and spark her rebellious side instead. “You truly think I’m lying?” she asks with blunt disbelieve. When Rhea doesn’t respond and simply continues to stare at her with a look that tells Byleth she’s convinced on the matter Byleth marches on in her fury. “You know, I thought it was painful that you didn’t believe me when I told you how I felt, but I could somewhat understand your point of view,” she tells the Archbishop firmly and with confidence. “But you somehow managed to disappoint me by lowering yourself one step further with claiming I’m outright lying now,” she snaps angrily.

“I should clarify,” Rhea says, seemingly unfazed by Byleth’s ranting. “I don’t think you’re lying about everything. I do however, refuse to believe you have truly seen me committing all those… all those sins and still claim you feel love, or even a shred of understanding, for me,” she tells Byleth almost calmly, clearly convinced of her reasoning. “So you are either lying about having been there in all those memories -perhaps you know _of_ them but it’s just impossible for you to have personally experienced them- or you are lying about having any sort of feelings of kindness for me.”

She crosses her arms and gives Byleth a look that makes her feel as if she just lost some kind of battle between them. “It would make sense if you were to lie about the latter Professor, as you aren’t supposed to be able to _feel_ anything on your own accord, not unless my Mother wills it,” she says with just a hint of spite.

Byleth is about to scream at her in anger but Rhea manages to take the wind out of her before she can do so by putting a finger to her lip and musing out loud. “Ah, perhaps that’s it,” she says in such a way it’s blatantly obviously she didn’t just came up with whatever she’s about to say on the spot. “Perhaps it _is_ my Mother’s will you cannot hold a grudge against me and find yourself compelled to keep forgiving me instead.” She shakes her head in faux sympathy. “You poor little vessel. Tell me, what is it like to be forced to adhere to the will of the Goddess?”

Byleth freezes in shock and she feels herself crumble as the cruel implications of Rhea’s words settle in.

“Lady Rhea, please…” she asks her and realizes her voice is trembling.

The Archbishop ignores her plea, however and continues, determined to outright shatter Byleth’s crumbling walls in one fell swoop. “I wonder…can you even tell the difference between yourself and a true human being? Hmm, does it feel to you as if the Goddess’s strong influence on you is instead your own genuine feelings and acts of free will?”

She looks at Byleth with malice and cruelty, masking the hurt and fright she feels underneath.

“You’re nothing but a puppet, Byleth,” she tells her coldly. “It’s time you realize that and stop acting like any of your supposed feelings hold any importance.”

Rhea manages to look victorious for maybe less than three seconds before she falters, her expression turns to genuine surprise, quickly followed by deep guilt when she watches the first tears fall from Byleth’s eyes.

Byleth only stares at her blankly, doesn’t even try to say anything anymore and simply surrenders herself to the tears she’s unable to stop, stemming from the pain and sadness Rhea’s words brought her.

What would she even say? Rhea has full control over her with her deep conviction in her distorted reasoning. Anything Byleth will say to her she’ll easily contort and twist to match her belief that Byleth is nothing but a vessel –a puppet- echoing the will, the words and the feelings of Sothis.

The worst of it all is that Byleth still loves Rhea so deeply, and now that love is the very thing that makes her doubt herself. She realizes Rhea has a much stronger hold over Byleth and her convictions than she thought, as Byleth’s love for her makes her want to believe her. And now she can’t seem to shake the unnerving desire to submit to Rhea and her logic.

Dread creeps deep into her bones.

…What if Rhea is right?

Suddenly she sorely misses Sothis’s presence in her head, as feeling her mismatched feelings side by side of those of Byleth would surely help her ground herself in her belief her feelings are her own.

She’s unaware she has clenched her fists and closed her eyes and she’s only vaguely aware her silent tears have turned into audible crying, as she’s confronted with the sounds of her own pathetic sobbing and wailing, as she struggles to breathe.

Perhaps because of that she’s surprised when she feels two arms wrap around her waist gently as she’s pulled against the chest of what can only be the Archbishop.

“I’m sorry,” the other woman mumbles somewhere close to her ear. “It’s likely better if you just stay away from me until the Holy Ceremony, I would only hurt you more.” She’s silent for a long moment before softly adding. “…I could never love you the way you want me to, regardless.” Byleth doesn’t miss the hint of sadness in her words. "I'm incapable of feeling such love," Rhea whispers, barely audible, as if she wishes it wasn't true. 

But those words stir something in Byleth and it helps her regain the ability to speak

She forces herself to take a few deep breaths to regain some control over herself “I told you,” she says, her voice muffled by the robes her face is currently pressed into. “I just want to love you. I don’t need you to love me back,” she manages to say while she feels her crying and sobbing start to diminish.

She hears Rhea sigh softly and Byleth instantly decides that’s not a good sign.

Rhea’s voice is gentle, almost comforting. “Dear Professor, that’s precisely why the love you claim to feel for me is nonsensical to begin with. Someone who truly feels as you think you do would always want their feelings returned, such is simply the nature of that kind of love.”

She probably tried to be kind or perhaps attempted to console Byleth, but she manages to sound so _utterly_ patronizing Byleth promptly finds both her rage and her words again at once.

Feeling defiant, she roughly breaks away from Rhea’s embrace, causing the other woman to slightly stumble backwards as she does so.

“You are nothing if not self-centered, Archbishop,” Byleth tells her with barely controlled anger.” Rhea only has time to look at her sort of bewildered and hurt before Byleth continues. “Did you even consider at all _why_ I don’t need to have my feelings returned, you… you inconsiderate, _pathetic_ excuse of a Saint.”

Rhea’s expression turns shocked, utterly perplexed at being spoken to in such a rude manner.

It only fuels Byleth’s desire to continue on this road, which is to say, to continue to hurl all the insults at the other woman she feels boiling in her chest.

But she knows Rhea can and will be deeply offended if she will do so, and she’ll likely damage the relationships between them sufficiently that neither of them will be able to repair it. As this contradicts Byleth’s determination to make Rhea see her as her own person she reaches out to every bit of willpower she has in her body and swallows down her anger.

She takes a deep breath, ignoring all of feeble Rhea and her feeble emotions before the woman gets the chance to regain her senseless and Byleth speaks up once more. “I understand that any of my reasons and anything I feel has no importance to you whatsoever, as you are convinced they are invalid, not real, not my own. …So I’ll refrain from wasting your time with explaining them to you,” she tells the Archbishop with controlled calmness. “You wouldn’t believe me either way,” she adds dismissively.

Her expression softens somewhat as she allows the slightest bit of genuine emotion to bleed into her voice.

“But I assure you that my reasons and feelings are things I hold very dear to me…even the feelings I have for you, Lady Rhea. Those too are very dear to me,” she tells her with confidence. “And I don’t care what you think of me or my feelings.” She stares down Rhea, who is paling more by the second. "To _me_ my feelings are real and genuine, to _me_ you are the first and only person who I have ever fallen in love with. Deeply," she continues, now panting because she's putting so much emotion in her words she forgets to breathe. "No matter what you think or say to me, you won't be able to take away my love I feel for you. You don't have that power." With clenched fists and her back straightened Byleth looks imposing despite her reddened cheeks and panting, the daring glare in her eyes alone silently challenge the Archbishop to so much as try and prove Byleth's convictions wrong.

But none of that seems to be needed now, as Rhea has gone very pale seems frozen, with wide eyes trying to take Byleth and her imposing demeanor in.

Clearly unable to comprehend Byleth’s words, Rhea blinks at her several times, making her look somewhat pathetic to Byleth. She just seems unable to make sense of both her own feelings and convictions and… and well, _all_ of Byleth, as the two things to clash and contradict in a manner so painfully uncomfortable for Rhea she can’t even let her mind dwell on it.

Byleth gives the stunned Archbishop one last look, one of compassion and maybe even disappointment, before sighing softly.

“Goodbye, Archbishop. I hope we haven’t completely ruined each other’s day. It would be a pity.”

She heads for the door and leaves the woman alone with herself without so much as looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm being kinda cruel to Rhea, (but Rhea is also cruel to Byleth ((but I'm also the one to write her doing that)) But this fic is not about Rhea bashing. I simply feel that Byleth and Rhea need to clash in painful ways several times before they can reach a deeper understanding of each their, leading to acceptance and let each other in.


	3. Only one heart and two hands

Byleth finds herself lying on her bed in somewhat of a daze. It’s about an hour before she even has to get up and prepare for class, but she knows it’s no use to try and sleep more.

 _It’s just a memory_ , she tells herself again.

It came to her in the form of a dream, of sorts. There are different ways Byleth can experience the memories of Sothis. At first all Sothis could do was forcefully inject one of her memories into Byleth’s consciousness. It would only take an instant yet suddenly her memory would be on the forefront of Byleth’s thoughts, feeling like it had been one of her own memories all along.

But as their bond deepened Byleth would sometimes get flashes of memories as well. Fragments, either voluntary or not, send from Sothis when she felt strong emotions about something related to the memory.

And now it would often happen that Byleth suddenly became aware she had a new memory somewhere in between her own, feeling as if it had been there all this time. Sometimes a dream would make her aware of it –like what happened now- while other times something related to the memory would help Byleth ‘recall’ the dream, like how one suddenly remembers a childhood memory. The memory might be a whole experience you had yet simply forgot about for many years, until suddenly the smell of two types of foods mingled will remind you of a grand feast you attended when you were only eleven, after which you can remember the event again down to most details.

Byleth has no idea if Sothis send her this memory, truthfully she doesn’t think she has. It’s happening more lately, when their connection grows strong that either Byleth subconsciously taps into Sothis’s memories, pulling out a memory her subconscious feels strong attachment towards. Or Sothis accidently- sometimes aware, sometimes not- lets one of her memories slip in between the barrier that separates their consciousnesses.

Either way, Byleth still has to recall them, and that’s precisely what she’s been doing now- over and over again.

It isn’t as if she can see the whole memory from its beginning to its end in an instant, she’s only human with a human brain, she has to look at it again and again, sometimes looking at the same part multiple times to understand all the details or fill in the blank spots that somehow didn’t fully make it into Byleth’s mind when recalled it a previous time.

She sighs deeply to herself.

_“Mother...”_

Byleth idly watches Rhea down in the Holy Mausoleum. The place looks like no one has been coming there regularly for several decades, if not longer …except for Rhea it seems. It’s completely dark aside from the flickering light coming from the large candle Rhea brought with her- now standing next to a delicately decorated coffin, and the soft green glow coming from Rhea’s eyes, her Draconian magic she can use so freely serving to aid her eyes in the darkness.

Her chest is lying over the side of the tomb, cradling it in her arms to the best of her ability. It looks awkward, clunky even.

It’s the coffin of Saint Seiros she’s hunched over yet both Rhea and her unknowing spectator know it’s not Saint Seiros who is resting in the coffin.

It merely holds the sword of the Creator- her Mother’s worldly remains, at this point in time.

Byleth can somehow tell how far in the past these memories are compared to her own current position in time with uncanny precision and this one is from more than a hundred years before she was born. With the aid of details from other memories, Byleth knows it means Rhea hasn’t gotten all that far in her experiments to revive her Mother, if Byleth had to guess she would have had her hopes set for the third one. Or perhaps by this point she already knows the girl –who was frail and weak despite having manifested in the form of a teenager- is already bound to die …if she isn’t dead already.

Rhea has been eerily quiet and unmoving, only her soft jagged breathing echoed mutedly through the Mausoleum.

But suddenly she stirs.

_“Mother…” she says, her voice brittle. “I don’t know how to go on. I don’t know if I have the strength.”_

_Tears are beginning to fall from her eyes and soon the large empty chamber is filled with the sound of soft cries and wails._

_Her voice cracks with grief. “The girl,” Rhea cries into the coffin. “She has lived for less than a year and seemed healthy enough, yet out of nowhere her health has begun to decline so rapidly …I fear I might be unable to save this one as well.”_

_Strained sobs come from the grieving Archbishop. “What am I to tell her, Mother? She doesn’t know… she doesn’t know she was meant to be you. But I knew early on she never would be. Instead she shines brightly as her own person…and I have grown to love her as such.” The archbishop quiets for a moment, taking deep breaths to control her sobs, despite that the silent tears keep flowing. “I feel for her in some sorts as a mother would feel for a child. I felt pride, Mother when she learned how to weave and let me teach her some of the more intricate patterns. …I felt so happy.”_

_She shifts her body, almost lets it slump down next to the coffin and draws up her knees to wrap her arms around them tightly. She leans her head against the coffin and stares up into the darkness._

_“But what mother would lie to their child like I do?” she says hollowly, her eyes dull. “What mother conceals the truth, that the girl is merely the third of incarnation of my attempts to revive my own Mother -the Goddess. …And how it’s now likely that just like the two who came before her she’ll soon die… and I’ll have to consider her another failed experiment?”_

_She makes a strangled noise, a wail of grief she won’t allow herself to express._

_Anger flares through her eyes and her expression turns taut. “How cruel am I for truly loving her, for letting her believe she’s safe with me and that she can trust me, while all the things I hide from her would surely cause her to hate me,” she rasps as hot tears roll down her cheeks out of frustration and pain._

_Another strangled cry._

_The guilt and anger she feels towards herself turn her voice rough. “I have no right to be happy because of her, I don’t even have the right to feel love because of her,” she rasps as her emotions bubble around the surface and bleed into her voice. “It’s a sin for me to feel any sort of happiness while doing these monstrous crimes to these innocent beings.”_

_She shakes her head almost angrily and frustration etches itself deeper into her features. “It hardly matters,” she says with equal frustration, “the one thing I am sure of is that would be cruel is let her spend her final days consumed by grief, hatred and betrayal if I were to tell her now.” Her voice thick with anger, with self-hatred._

_Rhea sighs deeply and for a moment she’s completely still as her cries fade and her breathing slowly comes back to her in a steady pace._

_She places a hand almost reverently on the coffin and looks at it with fondness which is somehow etched with ancient grief. “Mother, it feels as if I must have lived almost as long as you by now,” she softly yet gravely says to the coffin. “And…and I thought for sure I would be able to imitate anything you do.” Her voice cracks and frustration and helplessness bleed into it. “Yet your heart, like your hands, counted hundreds. ...While I only have one heart and two hands. I am so utterly powerless…”_

_A frustrated snarl comes from the sobbing woman. “Why…Mother, why is it that I cannot create life like you could do so freely. What am I lacking? What is… wrong with me...” Her sorrow takes over and a strangled wail rises from deep inside her throat._

_Finally Rhea succumbs to her own feelings of helplessness as quiet sobs and cries of grief echo through the chamber once more._

_At some point Rhea completely gives up on retaining any resemblance of posture and lets her body clumsily slide down until she’s lying on her back, her hands folded over her chest and her eyes staring blankly into the vast nothing above her._

_When her crying dies down emotions flicker through her eyes once more, eventually settling on a quiet determination. “The more I’ll be like you, Mother, the more I’ll be at once to everyone, and the more I will be able to amend… the more I’ll be able to rewrite.”_

_She says it with a sense of finality, resigning herself to continuing on the dark and painful path she is threading on now._

_She sighs deeply, almost in relief and closes her eyes. As if she wants to pretend nothing outside the Holy Mausoleum exists, not the Archbishop, not even her own life. In this short moment out of time only a daughter resting alongside her Mother’s coffin exist._

* * *

After that the memory gradually becomes blurry, gray and as if everything starts feeling farther away until it’s all just a fading and rustling noise Byleth can’t make sense of anymore.

Perhaps because Rhea fell asleep, or because she doesn’t remember what happened after, or maybe memories can’t just go on forever. Byleth doesn’t like how little she knows about the precise workings of how this memory sharing process works.

She sighs and stares at the ceiling. She has recalled the memory several times now, either going over from it from start to finish or recalling moments and fragments that hit her particularly hard.

Once again she was overwhelmed by the frustrating feeling of wanting –but unable- to comfort the woman she saw in a memory taking place over a hundred years ago. How badly she wished Rhea would have let her in, how she would have wanted to hold Rhea as she was crying, succumbing to all the grief she carries with her.

Byleth raises her arm skyward and starts opening and closing her hand in a slow pace, if only so her body has something to do while she recovers from the exhausting feeling the memory left her with.

How anyone could ever see the Archbishop as a monster is beyond her, especially after seeing her in such a grieving and pained state. For over a thousand years she has been unable to mourn and move on to live her own life.

Although, it’s only Byleth, Sothis and Rhea herself who have access to her full past, and out of those only _Rhea_ sees herself as a monster. Sothis might be angry with her daughter’s decision to bring back Sothis without her consent, but that anger doesn’t erase the motherly love Sothis still holds for Rhea. And Byleth… Byleth finds herself falling more and more in love with Rhea.

She is not sure how the public, Rhea’s followers or even her subordinates would react if they knew about Rhea’s experiments though… And how she’s Saint Seiros herself, a Divine being over a thousand years old who has been influencing –sometimes outright controlling- Fodlan for centuries now, under the guise of a Church she established under her own true name while adopting a false persona to act as the mediator.

Yes, even with Byleth’s limited knowledge of the Church and Fodlan’s current political climate she has gathered enough hints that some factions aren’t all too pleased with the amount of influence the Church –or just Rhea, really- wields. And those factions would certainly use this as a way to undermine her power or try to strip her of her power altogether.

She’s been idly mulling this over in her head for a while now, reaching now satisfying answer until her mind gets brought back to reality when she hears a knock on her door, soft and almost uncertain.

Odd, it’s at least an hour and a half before her class starts and usually she’s left well alone until she heads for breakfast.

Well, Byleth thinks as she hoists herself off her bed, she’s lucky she’s already dressed for the day, or perhaps it’s the party on the other side that’s lucky.

She does a quick stretch before taking the three steps it takes to get to her door and opens it.

Oh, it’s that boy, Cyril. His presence or purpose around Garreg Mach always seemed somewhat vague to Byleth. All she knows he’s been taken in and well cared for by the Church and occasionally helps out, as he’s too young to be a student.

‘Helps out’ often boils down to ‘Rhea’s little helper’ though, if Byleth were to give it a name.

And indeed, her suspicions are confirmed when the boy greets her politely before pulling out a fancy looking envelope from his shoulder bag, looking insecurely at Byleth as he hands it over to her.

“It’s from Lady Rhea, Professor,” Cyril tells her with as much professionalism he can muster for his age. “Said it was important and only for your eyes.” Byleth wonders if Rhea was afraid the boy would get too curious and take a peek himself, but no, he seems too loyal to Rhea to do such a thing. It’s more likely that certain snooping subordinates of the Archbishop would try to bargain with Cyril to get their hands on the contents.

Which does make Byleth rather curious to its contents now.

“Thank you, Cyril,” she tells him with a smile, causing the boy’s eyes to nervously dart away for a moment. “I’m glad you brought it to me, I’m honored to receive a letter from the Archbishop and equally honored she chose her most trusted ally to deliver it,” she adds, hoping to replace the boys nerves with pride instead.

It works and Byleth has to stifle a laugh when he stands up a little straighter and now looks at her with more confidence. “Naturally, Professor. Everything that’s important to Lady Rhea is important to me, so that includes you.”

Oh.

Well that certainly had more of an effect on Byleth’s heart than she expected. Unbeating or not, she feels her pulse quicken and a hint of giddy excitement courses through her. Rhea considering _her_ important? The thought seems unbelievable but Byleth can’t prevent a tiny smile from blooming on her lips.

Before she can dwell on it too much and risk blushing right in front of Cyril she thanks him once again with a kind smile. “And please, if you happen to run into her again today tell her my gratitude as well.”

He nods overly serious and wishes her a good day before taking his leave.

After watching the boy disappear in the distance around a corner Byleth closes her door again before making her way to her desk as she takes in the appearance of the envelope closely for the first time.

It’s blank, nothing written on it whatsoever but as Byleth flips the letter over in her hands an amused grin tugs at the edge of her lips.

A wax seal, serving as a mark of proof the envelope hasn’t been opened yet.

It’s in that strikingly familiar shade of light green and –Byleth finds this a particular subtle nod- a stamp of the Crest of Seiros pressed into the wax.

Perhaps if the envelope had been lily-scented Byleth could have had an inkling as to who could have written the contents within the envelope, she laughs silently to herself.

But of course, seeing as Cyril told her who it came from she doesn’t have to guess.

Still, she thinks the wax seal is a bit unnecessarily excessive, it’s not like it’s an official letter which had to leave the premises of Garreg Mach, not to mention it was personally hand delivered.

Sitting down at her desk Byleth chuckles to herself.

_Show-off._

When Byleth opens the letter and begins to read through its contents her good mood quickly begins to sour however.

It starts out polite enough.

_Dear Professor Eisner,_

_I found myself intrigued by your unique and interesting perspective on the Goddess and her will the last time we spoke of this topic. If you would be willing I would like it if you would be willing to continue the conversation. I’m interested in hearing some more of your opinions and perhaps I could tell you some of my own in return?_

_Should you be interested you are most welcome to visit my chambers at eight o’clock this evening._

_With sincere regards,_

_Rhea, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros._

Byleth reads the letter three times over and each time she does so she feels herself getting increasingly irritated.

A hissing sound of annoyance escapes her lips and she shoves the letter upside down towards the corner of her desk.

Shameless.

Absolutely shameless.

She knows full well that Rhea’s… roundabout way of wording things are likely fueled by her paranoia at the possibility of someone else getting their hands on the contents of her letter and being able to read anything more into it than a pleasant conversation about the Goddess.

But she didn’t even so much as add a concealed apology or admittance of having hurt Byleth, and now instead it does sounds as if Rhea is of the opinion the two of them are going to have nice civil conversation while pretending Byleth didn’t lose her temper and all but stormed out the room the other day.

Worst of all is that Rhea didn’t even have the guts to just come ask her in person, lest she risks Byleth actually giving her a hard time or refuse to visit, and just let a shallow letter be send in her stead where Byleth cannot directly refuse.

And refusing an invitation directly from the Holy Archbishop… is almost considered a crime, or a sin at least.

She just shouldn’t go, Byleth tells herself. Just let Rhea boil in her own misery while she restlessly paces across her chambers while counting every minute after eight which passes, gradually losing faith that Byleth will still come, that she’s just late.

No, the very thought makes Byleth’s stomach churn and guilt wells up within her. She can’t bear the idea of Rhea slowly losing hope until giving up entirely.

She’d probably cry herself to sleep, like she already does so often.

The woman is already so deeply emotional, Byleth doesn’t have it in her to deliberately hurt her even more.

Or rather, if she has to hurt Rhea she wants to do it in person, with her own words and only to get Rhea to see Byleth as her own person, rather than the possible hurt she could cause Rhea with her silent absence.

So she’ll go, that’s decided then.

It feels like giving up in a way, or more that the battle was already lost before Byleth even got to swing her sword.

It frustrates her to the point she can’t take it.

She grabs the letter once more and tries to lessen her frustration by replacing it with one of her favorite emotions instead.

Sarcasm, in which she admittedly isn’t all that well versed in. _Yet._

 _“Dear soulless vessel for my mother,”_ she begins to read out loud.

_“Last time we discussed the topic of the Goddess left me with a sense of discomfort,_

_If you would be so kind to come by another time so I can once more reassure myself you are not a real person while simultaneously granting you the illusion that I do see you as such it would really help to put my mind at ease._

_See you at eight!_

_Cheers, your future daughter.”_

Byleth catches herself quietly snickering at her own stupid sense of humor, feeling slightly guilty despite it actually alleviating some of her frustrations.

The burst of more crude and open amusement she feels welling up in her surprises her for a moment until she realizes the cause.

“I’m glad you enjoy my sense of humor but it’s _your_ child I’m dragging through the mud here, you know,” she smirks.

A vague sense of offense and a begrudgingly sort of guilt hits her.

“Yeah, you should feel bad.” Byleth chides the Goddess in her head. “It’s me she’s causing all this trouble, so I get to make a little fun of her to comfort myself,” she huffs. “But you just keep looking over my shoulder quietly and watch me while make a fool of myself.”

It’s faint but the feeling Sothis gives of makes Byleth think that if she could see her the Goddess would be grinning.

“Well, either way, I’m going to try and find her today to give her a piece of my mind about giving me such a meaningless letter, with her stupid pretend pleasantries,” she says and groans in annoyance once more.

Byleth all but shoves the letter back in the envelope before opening the top drawer of her desk and unceremoniously drops it in there, after which she closes the drawer again and locks it with a key.

Sothis thankfully remains silent, perhaps sharing her feelings is draining on her, Byleth thinks to herself.

Or she does feel an inkling of guilt.

Who knows.

* * *

The rest of her day passes by fairly uneventfully, she didn’t have enough time left to locate Rhea before her class started and she found herself occupied until well into the afternoon.

She starts her hunt once she’s finally free of any lingering duties

Although it’s not much of a hunt, Rhea is always either somewhere private and off-limits to Byleth or piously haunting the Cathedral’s grounds.

Fortunately for Byleth, it’s the latter case this time.

Less fortunate is that she’s currently with Seteth in the side room.

Well, if Seteth’s presence is to be unfortunate for Byleth it should also just be unfortunate to Rhea, she decides.

“Lady Rhea,” she says, deliberately slightly too loud so it lacks the usual overly polite reverence people greet her with.

The effect is immediate, as Rhea’s eyes widen slightly in surprise along with a hint of fear, once she turns around to see the source of the voice who called out to her, while Seteth’s eyes narrow in mild annoyance.

“If you request me to spend time in your company for some pleasant conversation then could you at least have the decency to be honest about the real reason,” Byleth tells her rather bluntly.

Rhea momentarily seems at a loss of how to respond, her eyes darting nervously from Seteth and back to Byleth.

Her brother has less trouble with reacting to Byleth, however.

“How _dare_ you speak to her like that, professor,” he says coldly, not hiding his distaste. “You should be honored Lady Rhea has invited you to spend time in her company and yet instead you have the gall to doubt her good intentions?”

“No, not about the goodness of her intentions, just the real ones,” Byleth shrugs, giving him a nonchalant look.

Seteth likes this even less and is already sputtering angry condescending words at her until a very sharp “ _Seteth,”_ from Rhea promptly silences him.

“It’s alright,” she continues, her words chosen carefully yet with a hint of the authority she normally wields. “The professor is right.” She focuses her full attention on Byleth now, and Byleth suddenly feels her braveness wither away under the woman’s intense gaze. It’s so… full of repressed longing, which in turn is terribly confusing for Byleth.

“My apologies,” Rhea starts, now with an aura that tells she’s fully in control of both herself and the situation. “After our last conversation I found myself curious as to why it is that you don’t want people you care for to care for you in return,” she says, wording it as superficial and inconspicuous as she could. “The notion confounded me and in my restlessness to try and understand it my curiosity got the better of me and I had that letter delivered to you,” she smiles, ever serene.

Her brother now gives her a suspicious look, but Rhea isn’t done explaining yet, ensuring his silence with a sharp look before continuing. “I didn’t want those personal feelings you had shared with me to fall into the wrong hands, a student for example, so I attempted to word my intentions in a more mundane way, as simple pleasantries in good company, but I understand now that doing so might have come across as rude.” Her smile wavers slightly, or rather, it changes into a true weakly smile. “And for that I wish to apologize, professor.”

Byleth feels her blood rush. Not to anywhere in particular, just rushing everywhere inside her and she has to swallow hard.

_A real smile._

It’s weak and somewhere in between regretful and apologetic.

But it’s _real_ and solely meant for Byleth.

She catches herself staring just before it would become obvious and manages to formulate some words in her head. “Uhm, yes. I understand now, I shouldn’t have confronted you about it in such a harsh manner. My apologies as well,” Byleth mutters, struggling to maintain eye contact, out of nerves or shame, she doesn’t know. “I will still visit your chambers at eight. ....If you still wish for my company, that is,” she adds, suddenly feeling very uncertain and guilty.

She came here to confront Rhea and make _her_ feel guilty, so why is Byleth the one apologizing and riddled with feelings of guilt all of a sudden? This woman is so… so powerful in her complexity.

Rhea’s smile only widens, and it still looks genuine. “I would be delighted if you would still visit me,” she tells Byleth with a shine in her eyes that makes Byleth feels like she’s drowning and actually kind of alright with that.

“Thank you, I’ll see you tonight then,” she says curtly. “I’ll take my leave now, I have matters to attend,” she continuous, trying not to mumble or sound uncertain because she does _not_ actually have any matters to attend to.

She bows politely, yet she know her posture is stiff. “Lady Rhea,” she nods, then looks over at Rhea's brother. “...Seteth," she nods as well.

He politely stares her down and makes a dismissive sound.

Byleth takes it as her cue to leave and is almost relieved when she turns around and takes her first few steps back to where things makes sense.

Behind her she hears Seteth speak to Rhea, yet he deliberately speaks loudly enough –aided by the acoustics of the Cathedral- so that Byleth can her him perfectly as well.

“I must confess it still eludes me what you see in that woman, Lady Rhea,” he says with mild scorn in his voice. “She simply does not fit in with the Church’s natural order of things.”

Byleth smirks and can’t help herself. “You’d be surprised Seteth,” she says airily while continuing to walk away, without even looking back. “What certain people are seeing in me.”

She hears Seteth sneer behind her, who gets abruptly and hurriedly hushed by his sister whose tone of voice is just a tad higher than normal, betraying her nerves.

Yes, Byleth is definitely in over her head, halfway into drowning, but for now she gets the last laugh.

Her mischievous chuckle echoing through the Cathedral sets of Seteth once more, now far in the distance behind an amused Byleth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to do the actual 8 o clock in this chapter but it got quiet long on its own. Have already written most of the rest though!
> 
> Thansk for reading.


	4. The fine art of handholding

Byleth finds herself standing in front of the large clock embed in the Monastery wall, the wall itself having been elevated slightly higher than the rest of it to make the clock stand out more.

It’s a little past four in the afternoon, meaning Byleth has nearly four hours to kill before her scheduled visit to Rhea’s chambers.

She’s restless.

It’s an odd sensation to her, one she has hardly felt before in her life. As a mercenary patience was virtue, if you were tracking down your target you couldn’t afford to rush things or act brashly out of restlessness. And even just at camp there were always things to do, fires to keep going, weapons to repair or sharpen, clothes to mend, food to prepare and a whole lot of interesting conversations in between.

But now the remaining hours feel as if they’ll be endless, a gigantic stretch of nothing in-between now and eight o’clock in the evening. Byleth can’t even find it in herself to come up with anything meaningful to do to fill the time. There are things, for sure. Checking in on her students, joining the other faculty members, doing some things for her own personal enjoyment… but she knows that attempting to do so would be fruitless as she’d just grow more restless and she’d certainly be unable to focus on anything at hand.

She decides to go for a walk. At least if her body is moving in some way she can alleviate some of that restlessness by simply remaining in motion.

As she's free to leave the Monastery she soon finds herself in the village and markets below, through which she wanders around aimlessly.

Once she reaches the end of the village she keeps on going further and is soon surrounded by grasslands which gradually turns into a sparse forest.

Surrounded by loneliness and the comforting sounds of silence mingled with the hums and whims of nature, Byleth inevitably finds her thoughts wandering to her imminent meeting with Rhea.

What is she even supposed to say? Rhea said she wished to apologize, but she already did that earlier.

Rhea told her –in a superficial and concealed way- that she doesn’t understand why Byleth doesn’t want her love returned by Rhea, as she told her the previous time Byleth was in her chambers that’s how romantic love is supposed to work, that you want your feelings returned.

The concept is unfamiliar to Byleth. She has felt love for people, but never really romantic love. And just like any human Byleth knows very well that when you’re in love with someone and find that your feelings are returned is one of the most exhilarating emotions a human can feel, and in contrast, unrecruited love feels as if a part of you is dying, with so much of you to give but unable to give it.

Yet Byleth feels neither.

All she wants is to make Rhea happy, not just for a moment but a lasting, lingering happiness that will remain clinging to her long after Byleth has left the world of the living.

It’s more of a passive love then, she considers. Although, each time Rhea gives her a genuine smile, touches her or says something that reaches Byleth’s heart she does feel a flicker of that exhilarating feeling, some kind of wanting, of longing for her.

But the lack thereof doesn’t sadden her either.

It’s not as there is even remotely the possibility that under these straining circumstances she could find love and happiness together with Rhea.

But if she pictures it, meeting Rhea in some other context, one where the both of them were much more free, equal beings with no important titles or souls of the Goddess inside them.

Despite her heart not beating, she feels something tug inside it and a warmth spreads through her.

Yes, while she can see many hurdles and struggles ahead for them, in the distance there is a comfortable peace she wishes she could find with Rhea.

Holding her hand, chatting over tea, going on walks with her, kissing her goodnight as she wraps Rhea safely in her arms and pulls the blankets over them.

Byleth feels her cheeks fluster and considers that this is probably the kind of happiness one feels when they’re in love.

The one she realizes she does wish she could feel together with Rhea.

Yet she feels only a twinge of pain at the thought that such a future will never happen.

No matter what, Rhea’s prolonged peace, stability and happiness come before what Byleth wants, that’s just how Byleth feels love. Seeing as Rhea will never stop seeing a part of her Mother inside Byleth, even if Byleth manages to convince her she’s truly doing everything for her –everything she does in general- on her own volition.

The trees around her are getting more dense, along with the undergrowth, and Byleth realizes she has made it quite far into the forests, the small dirt paths leading her across wide curves and half circles. She’s sure that if she’d follow the correct paths she’d make it out of the forest on another side of it, as the dirt paths seem too well used to be nothing but simple hunting trails.

Either way, she turns around and begins to make her way back, she estimates she has been walking a little over an hour and while she’s fairly certain she’s not at all lost it is not uncommon that the way back takes longer than the way forward in a forest.

Garreg Mach has been built on an elevated plateau halfway into a mountain so it doesn’t take long for Byleth to spot the mountain and later the highest towers and roofs of the Cathedral in the distance.

Before long the trees begin to give way for the fields again and soon after Byleth finds herself wandering the market again.

The thought of buying something for Rhea occurs to her. But would that be appreciated, or even appropriate? She can’t imagine that it’s considered normal among the people to smother the most well-known and revered person in all of Fodlan with presents, she’d have nowhere to put them if everyone did so whenever they wished.

But Byleth isn’t just anyone, at least not to Rhea. In fact, she’s someone incredibly special who she absolutely isn’t to the Archbishop. But even as Byleth she’s treated with an air of specialness, as Rhea constantly seems to be startled or otherwise affected by the things Byleth tells her.

A present it is then, Byleth decides.

Now she’s stuck with the problem of _what kind_ of present. Surely the woman has everything she could ever need, want and more. She doesn’t even seem to care all that much for objects, other than those related to the Church.

But she does care about people, and so perhaps if Byleth gives her something that resembles Byleth herself Rhea might actually care about the present, as it would have a meaning attached to it.

But _what?_

Just like Rhea, she also doesn’t really have many defining quirks, habits and interests. She likes to fish yes… but there is not much of a valued present to be found related to _fish_.

Swords, or any weapon… bad idea. Especially now that Byleth has the knowledge that the most famous and powerful weapons in Fodlan are all made from the remains of Rhea’s slaughtered family.

So no, a small replica or necklace with a small weapon hanging from it, very bad idea.

But perhaps a necklace in itself isn’t a bad idea. There are enough stands selling numerous different kinds of necklaces.

She ends up browsing them. There are many which have all kinds of unique pendants, anything from cute and simple figures to more delicate and meaningful shapes. Crests, hearts, various animals, religious symbols and more.

They all seem to fall flat to Byleth when it comes to something which Rhea would appreciate.

A few stands further she stumbles upon a number of necklaces which have small glass pendants in various colors that blend and melt into one another.

Almost instantly her eyes fall on a particular one and after one glance she knows it’s the one.

Although Rhea might not like it all that much it’s certainly meaningful, to Byleth at least, and likely more uncomfortable to Rhea.

It’s a simple round pendant, in the middle there is a dark blue circle which slowly bleeds out into a lighter color until it turns into the familiar shade of green Byleth now shares with Rhea when it comes to their hair and eyes.

It’s symbolic, then. With Byleth’s own humanity in the middle, and the divinity that clings to her surrounding her, connecting and blending her with Sothis as well as Rhea.

Giving this as a present is an act of compliance, of acknowledging Rhea’s will and accepting it.

It’s also an act of defiance, of telling Rhea that at her core it will always be Byleth who acted out of her own free will.

Several minutes later she has it wrapped in paper, pocketed safely in her jacket as she makes her way back to Garreg Mach.

A glance at the clock reveals it’s now slightly past six thirty. Enough time to have a simple meal and then some.

She deliberately takes her time. Her meal, consisting of soup and bread, she takes to one of the less crowded tables and eats most of it in silence, _slowly._ After finishing her dinner she’s even more restless than earlier so she tries to kill the remaining time by wandering aimlessly around the Monastery. By the third time she passes the clock and it’s about twenty minutes before eight, her resolve to be functional evaporates instantly and at once she beelines for Rhea’s chambers.

Byleth is pretty sure less than five minutes have passed by the time she finds herself knocking on the Archbishop’s wooden door, so she’s too early.

The look on Rhea’s face when she opens the door a moment later tells Byleth that the woman too is of the opinion Byleth is too early.

“I got too restless,” she shrugs slightly apologetically and smiles sheepishly.

To her surprise Rhea responds with a weak smile of her own. “Ah, well that makes two of us then, I suppose.”

She takes a step backwards and opens the door slightly more so that Byleth can enter her chambers.

With a hint of amusement Byleth glances at the floor, thinking there might be visibly worn down trail markings on the wooden planks and carpets where Rhea might have been pacing back and forth because of her own apparent restlessness.

But no, her room looks perfectly unblemished.

Finally she takes in Rhea’s appearance, something she probably should have done before showing interest in the floor. The Archbishop looks a lot less Archbishop right now, as she’s dressed down from her usual religious attire. No more ornamental headpieces grace hear head and the ornate robe is gone too. Her white dress is replaced as well, by one that’s less slim fitting and of a softer fabric, it even widens from her hips down, the hems falling in folds around her knees. For some reason Byleth really likes how the sleeves look on her, perfectly fitting around her shoulders and then loosely hugging her arms all the way to the wrist where a decorative woven pattern circles the sleeve just before it ends.

That pattern is the only decoration along with a similar woven pattern around the collar of the dress, which curls around her collarbones.

“You look really nice like that,” Byleth says almost absentmindedly after Rhea has gestured to sit by the usual table.

The woman falters slightly and halts her step for a moment as she registers Byleth’s words. “It’s merely a simple gown for when I have no more obligations for the day, Professor,” she says with a hint of awkwardness. “It’s not meant to look nice, it’s made for comfort.”

Byleth finds the notion rather silly. Is it wrong now to like someone in clothes that aren’t specifically designed to make them look more beautiful? 

“You look nice when you’re comfortable, then,” she hums, gently but persistent.

Rhea looks almost warily at her as she sits down across from Byleth, uncertain how to interpret her words and regards her with silence.

“I mean that your usually attire always makes you look incredibly beautiful, of course… but also distant in a way, all those accessories and ornaments feel as if they hold some kind of unspoken weight to them, something radiant yet so infallible no one can really see you,” Byleth explains, losing courage and direction with each words that leaves her mouth. “Like this you just look a little less distant,” she tries saving herself with, though she’s confident her expression doesn’t reveal her flailing attempts at being open and kind. “A little less intimidating too. It seems that if you look comfortable it makes me feel comfortable as well,” she ends with an uncertain smile.

Rhea seems slightly taken aback yet quickly regains her composure. “Well, it seems you discovered my secret reason for dressing the way I usually do then,” she says, the corners of her lips tugging upwards in an impish smile.

“I’m perceptive like that,” Byleth jokes dryly.

Rhea has the common sense to raise her eyebrows in amused skepticism. “You have many skills, professor, but being perceptive in such a way isn’t one of them. Instead you have help and that just makes you a cheater,” she says with a subtly sly grin.

There’s a slight edge to her words, the things she silently accuses and resents Byleth for which she doesn’t want to verbalize.

To keep the tension between them at a pleasant and amicable level, Byleth supposes.

“My ‘help’ doesn’t help me with in-depth analyses of people’s clothes and their hidden meaning, trust me. That skill stems solely from my own absolute cluelessness when it comes to fashion,” she retorts, trying to at least not make Rhea more tense than she already is.

Because she’s really tense, despite her best efforts to hide it. Her movements are just a tad more stiff, her eyes dart to the window too often to be natural and she’s continuously subtly moving her fingers or hands in the tiniest of ways, a tap on the table, her thumb rubbing along the nail of another finger.

The way Rhea takes in her clothes with scrutiny, followed by a hint of a knowing look tells Byleth enough about Rhea’s opinion on her sense of fashion when it comes to dressing herself.

“It’s comfortable,” she says defensively, grinning slightly.

“Ah,” is all Rhea responds with, along with a nod in unimpressed understanding.

When she remains silent afterwards, subtly gazing in Byleth’s direction with an expecting look it becomes clear to Byleth that she’s completely under the assumption that Byleth will address the subject which Rhea herself invited her over for.

Alright then.

“You wanted to know why I don’t want you to return my feelings,” she states bluntly. Might as well rip off the band-aid in one fell swoop.

Rhea opens her mouth for a second only to close it again without saying a word. She shifts her position to a more composed looking one and carefully poises her hands together on the table.

“Essentially, yes. Although you worded it a bit crude, if I may add,” Rhea responds, her voice slightly forced.

“I don’t think I am going to be capable of refraining from being crude if you want me to tell you my reasons, as they come with emotions and those are crude, if not painful, on their own.”

Rhea sighs. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to endure it then,” she says with a touch of drama.

“I… well, I’ll try to express myself then,” Byleth mutters.

Rhea’s expecting look increases in intensity.

Perhaps she’s eager then? Maybe worried? Or hoping to find a way to contort Byleth’s reasoning into yet another way it means she’s not her own person.

Well, one way to find out.

“You’ll have to try and look at things from my perspective,” she starts neutrally. “I’ve been living as a mercenary for as long as I can remember and I know you likely can’t exactly picture what that entails, as you are all but imprisoned in the monastery, as gilded as it may be,” she hears herself say and realizes she’s already slipping slightly below ‘neutral’ and lightly into ‘accusing’ with how she’s wording things. Apparently she’s already more emotional than she thought she’d be.

She tries to get herself back on track, back to calm, composed and neutral.

“But let me tell you living as a mercenary involves a lot of solitude, endless traveling and being perpetually surrounded by the same small group of people. Now, I’m sure you can agree with me when I tell you those are not exactly the ideal circumstances for a teenager to foster fantasies of meeting someone to fall in love with, let alone settle down with or… or m-marriage.” She stutters the last words and curses herself inwardly for her awkwardness with talking about the topic.

One glance at Rhea reveals she isn’t keen on interfering with Byleth’s explanation, or maybe she currently just can’t react at all, as she looks a little frozen. So Byleth takes her loss and continues. “So, my stunted start in matters of love aside, you are _also_ the Holy Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, in case you had forgotten that bit,” she says and once again catches the edge in her voice, now taking on the form of sarcasm, and tries to rid herself off it. “I hadn’t forgotten, in any case, and I’m not the kind of person who will entertain unrealistic delusions of courting someone in such a position. I’m pretty sure there are even laws forbidding such a thing.” She pauses and looks at the astonished Archbishop curiously. “I’m right about that, aren’t I? I mean it’s not unfeasible that attempting to seduce a Holy woman is strictly forbidden, but _you_ also aren’t allowed to indulge in romance, are you?” she questions her, sounding a tad more demanding than she intended.

She receives a weak nod in confirmation.

“Well, I suppose you can’t fault me for being somewhat discouraged by that bit then,” Byleth shrugs with a sheepish smile. “But hey, at least you can be proud I’m getting the hang of the inner workings of the Church,” she says, amused by her own joke.

Rhea only pales more so Byleth decides to just get to the final stretch and get this over with. “And lastly, Lady Rhea, I don’t understand how you seem to keep ignoring this but I keep telling you how I am willingly going to perish by the end of this moon. For _you,_ that is _._ Because _you_ insist I’m nothing more than a vessel of your Mother. And if I wanted to come to terms with that and accept my fate it also meant I had to accept that my love for you would never be more than a one sided devotion I’m willingly letting you make use of so you can be happy.”

She sighs softly, all her frustration having dwindled along with her words.

“And I did accept that, Lady Rhea. So as much as I’d like to hold your hand at the market and kiss you under the moonlight or whatever, I’ll have to excuse myself to you for refusing to indulge in such fantasies that have no feasible chance of happening.” She’s getting close to being overwhelmed by emotions she doesn’t understand and opts to stare intensely at the ground to remain in control. “So I’m sorry if this doesn’t count as ‘real love’ to you, but… but just let me passively love you with the little time I have left. It… it comforts me, it reassures me that at least I’m doing the right thing, that my love for you means you’re worth dying for,” she finishes a sad smile on her lips.

The room remains silent and Byleth keeps staring at the ground, surrounding herself in the illusion of tranquility a little bit longer until Rhea will inevitably rip her out of it.

She hears the Archbishop shift across from her. “You… you want to hold my hand?” she hears her say with an almost clumsy uncertainty in her voice.

Byleth would have yelled at her in frustration if she hadn’t looked up to look at her face first. Because how is _that_ the only part Rhea thought important enough to mention?

But when she sees the Archbishops expression her words die in her throat. She looks bewildered and achingly vulnerable yet there is a slight blush on her face and the tiniest of smiles on her lips which Byleth is sure Rhea trying fiercely yet unable to wipe off her face.

“…Yes?” She says, slightly unsure of what to make of this. “Yes,” she repeats with more certainty. “In another reality, without any of these ridiculous complexities between us, I would have loved to hold your hand.”

Rhea’s tiny smile blooms into a full one as her blush deepens along with it, and Byleth remains convinced it’s still solely against the woman’s own will. But the sight still makes her throat dry and some kind of giddiness makes her feel lightheaded.

“You… you did hear the rest of what I said, right?” she asks slightly suspicious. As nice it is that Rhea is so enamored by the fantasy of holding hands, Byleth can’t help but feel that wasn’t really the core of what she was trying to get across.

Rhea’s eyes widen slightly. “Ah, yes…yes I did. My apologies, I heard every word and… and it helped to understand. …Sorry, it’s just that I don’t think someone ever told me they wanted to hold my hand before. It’s… It’s almost impossible not to focus on it.” The Archbishop admits awkwardly and suddenly she reminds Byleth of one of her students whenever they’ve just gotten a simple compliment from one of their classmates and their brain just runs with it needlessly hard, making them smile so brightly.

It’s oddly innocent.

“You don’t mean to tell me no one has ever confessed their love to you,” Byleth says with blatant disbelief.

Rhea shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I meant” she grins slightly. “People do that, _a lot._ Despite the fact it’s forbidden, as you said.” Her grin fades and she looks more serious again, more open somehow. “It’s more that no one ever expressed their love to me like _that,”_ she says, sounding unsure of how to put it.

“Like what?” Byleth asks her, equally confused.

“As if being able to hold my hand is all that matters.”

“It isn’t?” Byleth questions her. “I mean I understand there are numerous factors to… to loving someone rightly but when it comes down to it I always assumed that simple things such as that are the foundation that give people the strength to get through the more complicated things.” She suddenly feels very unsure and woefully inexperienced. “…Am I wrong?” She mumbles softly.

“Many people would tell you so, yes.” Rhea tells her quietly. “…Especially when it comes to me, I think.”

“Huh?” Byleth blurts out unceremoniously and even Rhea seems to feel that way as she laughs quietly at Byleth’s impulsive confusion.

“You must see, I spend the first part of my life as a holy War Saint and then took on the role of Archbishop rather abruptly afterwards. Neither of those positions allowed people to get close to me very easily –and I suppose I also keep them at a distance on purpose- so it’s a new experience for me to have someone burst into my life and tell me they simply wish to hold my hand.” She chuckles softly in amusement but her lingering smile is still oddly open and endearing.

“But you’re so _old,_ ” Byleth says impulsively, her face flushing when Rhea’s eyebrows rise at yet another one of her graceless way of wording things. “Sorry, I just meant I find it hard to believe you never had any lovers before in your long life,” she mumbles in an attempt to correct herself somewhat.

Rhea’s eyes turn mischievous and she all but smirks at Byleth. “That’s not what I said, dear Professor,” she says with an air of mystery. “I simply said none of them ever told me they wanted to hold my hand.”

Byleth gives her another confused look. “Then what did they wanted to-”

“They wanted to sleep with me, mostly,” Rhea interrupts her nonchalantly, clearly taking a lot of joy in the way her words instantly rile Byleth up.

“O-oh, I’m sorry. I… uh I shouldn’t have… sorry,” she stutters and has to avert her gaze because she knows she’s blushing furiously.

“There is no need to apologize, professor,” Rhea tells her gently, her eyes softening somewhat. “I brought it up myself.”

“I know, I just… have no idea how to do any of this right, it seems.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Rhea chides her almost playfully. “Neither did any of them, if it helps.”

“You deserve to be loved right, Lady Rhea,” Byleth tries to tell her but it sounds utterly lame to herself.

Rhea shakes her head. “No, I do not,” she says with a stale expression. “And I never gave them the chance to do so regardless. They only knew me as the War Saint or the Archbishop, and I never showed them anything more of myself than that. …I think some of them might have truly loved me, or thought they did at least.”

Byleth finally looks at her again, compelled by the sting of empathy she feels.

Apparently it’s evident on her face and Rhea does not appreciate it because her eyes turn cold and her smile looks slightly off. “Do not look at me with such a pathetic expression, Professor. Living this way was wholeheartedly my own choice and I do not need your pity to nullify that for me.”

“Don’t you ever feel lonely, then?” Byleth asks her, despite knowing she _really_ shouldn’t. The Archbishop has made it very clear by now she does not enjoy it when someone pries into her feelings.

Rhea’s eyes remain cold as she shrugs dismissively. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell the difference anymore,” she tells Byleth airily, apathetic. When Byleth doesn’t respond a hint of anger ghosts over her features. “What I _do_ know is I kept a lot of them close, indulged myself in sleeping with them, so I wouldn’t _be_ alone,” she snaps.

By the way she’s gauging Byleth’s reaction it’s clear her intention was to hurt or disgust Byleth with her words, yet Byleth fails to see how that would have worked and only feels miserable at the idea of how lonely Rhea must truly be and how she seems intent of keeping everyone –including Byleth- at such a distance she’ll remain lonely, even if she has to hurt them to keep them away

Having no clue what to say, as this is clearly a delicate subject and Byleth thinks she’s way to inexperienced to say anything remotely useful she resigns to a gentle apologetic smile instead.

That was clearly the wrong thing to do as well as Rhea turns to look very frustrated with her.

She steps closer to Byleth –too close for comfort- and smiles icily at her. “Tell me, professor,” she murmurs softly. “Do _you_ wish to sleep with me?”

Byleth’s eyes widen in shock and she stumbles backwards. Feeling incredibly flustered and uncomfortable she glares at the Archbishop. “ _No._ Rhea _what?_ Why would you even say such a thing?” She stutters awkwardly while suddenly feeling inexplicably angry at her.

When she finally looks at Rhea’s eyes she realizes exactly why Rhea is saying it.

She’s trying to push Byleth away again, shock and disgust her to keep her at a safe distance where she can’t hurt Rhea. Or perhaps get Byleth to sleep with her in that way she made it sound so empty and meaningless, so false and superficial that by doing so she’d close all doors to her heart.

And by having found one of her weak points, Rhea has almost succeeded.

With effort Byleth manages to get herself back under control. Taking a deep breath to steady herself as she tries to explain herself to the cautious woman. “No, Lady Rhea. I don’t wish to sleep with you,” she says, her voice calm. “But not because of your efforts to disturb me. I meant it when I said I want to spend my final days making you happy and I do not believe that sleeping with you is anywhere near the right way to do that, I think it would just be damaging for you, for both of us,” she tells the Archbishop with confidence. “…I am rather lacking in experience when it comes to that anyway,” she adds as she feels herself fluster. “So I’d rather not make a fool of myself… or hurt you in any way. I don't want to start something I can't finish properly, and I simply don't have the time to... to learn to sleep with you in a way that would make us both happy.” She feels a twinge of pride of being to say such delicate things without turning into a mess.

To Byleth’s surprise Rhea is momentarily taken aback and then relief seems to overcome her, as she exhales softly and even slightly relaxes.

“That… that’s perhaps what I needed to hear. The… pressure of you possibly wanting that was too much.”

Byleth smiles sadly. “I don’t want to pressure you in any way. …Well, only in the way that I want you to recognize my own individuality, I suppose,” she adds with a hint of shame.

“There just isn’t anything you will take and settle for, isn’t there?” Rhea sighs and it feels as if she’s admitting her defeat of sorts.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m determined… despite knowing it will hurt you, so I’m deeply sorry for that. I simply cannot bear the thought of dying willingly for love without even being seen as enough of a person to be capable of loving.”

Rhea quietly looks at her for a moment, deep in thought. “I will try, then,” she says softly, her voice wavering and full of vulnerability. “No, I will go further than trying. I’ll do what I can to meet your wishes, it’s the least I can do.”

Byleth smiles gently at her, despite her insides reeling with giddy happiness. “Take the time you need, my Archbishop. It would mean everything to me.”

A deeply weary smile is what Byleth receives from Rhea and Byleth notices she’s looking pale and is slightly slagging in her normally so perfect posture.

“You’re tired,” Byleth deduces. Rhea glances at her through tired eyes which are blinking to stave of the sleep that seems to wants to claim Rhea.

Rhea chuckles, yet even that sounds weary, like a weak stutter. “You’re right, my dear Professor. I am emotionally drained I think, and I really wish I could sleep.”

Byleth can’t help but feel curious “Then why won’t you?” she asks with genuine interest. Perhaps the woman is having more nightmares? Or maybe more business left unattended?

Rhea raises her eyebrows and gives Byleth a forlorn smile. ”Because you’re here, Professor.”

“Oh.” Byleth immediately feels she has long overstayed her welcome. “I’ll leave immediately then, if sleep is what you require,” she says with earnestly.

After quickly getting she gets up from the chair she managed barely a step or two before she feels a hand tenderly grab her wrist as she passes by. When she looks over her shoulder and meet’s Rhea’s eyes something in her non-beating heart stirs at the sight. She looks so fragile, her need so willingly exposed. As if she wants to ask something but doesn’t have the courage to day it.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Byleth asks softly, purposely sounding submissively so Rhea can remain feeling as if she’s in control.

“Y-yes,” she rasps. “Please, I need you to stay with me until I fall asleep. I have always struggled to fall asleep but today has been… exceptionally harsh on me and I feel that if you’re here I’d feel safe enough to sleep, perhaps even without nightmares for once.”

Suddenly Rhea’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to of course… I don’t want to impose or take up your time. It’s an odd request, please forget it, professor.”

Byleth only smiles warmly. “I offered, Lady Rhea. I don’t mind at all. I would prefer to stay if it helps you sleep. I want to be there for you, remember?”

She notices the faint blush on Rhea’s features and this might just be the first time Rhea wants Byleth and not Sothis.

Or maybe she’s telling herself Byleth is still a simple echo of her Mother.

Or maybe she looks at Byleth and sees both of them at once and has no idea how to interact with Byleth because of it.

But finally the green haired woman tentatively nods. “Alright, you have my deepest gratitude then,” she smiles faintly.

Now that that has been decided the act of actually getting into bed is a messy and awkward affair. Byleth just assumed she’d take off her boots and over shirt and would use her coat as her blanket, yet Rhea finds the notion uncomfortable and brings her an extra blanket, before painfully awkwardly getting under the covers as far away from Byleth, who is casually lying on her back and had thought she was only claiming a small spot on the edge of the bed herself.

But the distance between them feels larger than the distance she traveled through the forest earlier today.

And it’s as if Rhea, who is lying on her side with her back turned to Byleth, is radiating a strong essence of ‘ _want’_ yet refuses to act on it.

The woman is clearly tense, even her breathing sounds forced.

Byleth decides to take another plunge into the deep.

“Lady Rhea?” she murmurs softly. “Would you have anything against it if we lie closer to each other?”

At first Rhea doesn’t respond, but she also doesn’t breathe for a few seconds so it’s clear she heard Byleth. Finally she turns around and looks unsurely at Byleth.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No. I mean, I offered,” Byleth smiles sheepishly. “I think it would be comforting to me, and perhaps for you too. This,” she says, gesturing to the space between them, “feels… forced. As if we are missing the point,” she ponders out loud.

Rhea glances at her for another moment, taking in her expression, before tentatively making her way closer to Byleth until she’s very close to her, still lying on her side.

“Do you want to hold my hand again?” she asks softy, the mild quiver in her voice betraying her fear of rejection.

Byleth finds her way of wording endearingly amusing, how Rhea is unable admit it’s _she_ who wants to hold Byleth’s hand so she places the incitement on Byleth.

Already reaching out to grab Rhea’s hand she nods. “I would really enjoy that,” she admits with a soft smile.

Once her hand wraps around soft fingers she brings Rhea’s hand back up it lay on her own stomach and interlaces their fingers.

“Is this alright?” she asks before glancing at Rhea.

And oh the woman is very flustered. “Mhm,” she manages to utter before she caves in to some sort of impulse and curls her body so that her head is buried into Byleth’s side.

That’s… also very endearing and Byleth finds herself discovering yet another feeling of the most innocent yet strongest form of happiness, as she takes in the sight of the woman huddled against her.

“Goodnight, Rhea,” she whispers tenderly.

“Goodnight,” comes the muffled response against her side, causing Byleth to chuckle softly.

* * *

She wakes up a good few hours later, too early for morning as it’s still very dark outside. She was never really one to sleep very long and she went to sleep rather early compared to her usual hours. But once she opens her eyes and takes in the sight of Rhea she instantly feels she wouldn’t mind laying here for another few hours and just bask in the comfort of having the other woman so close.

The… incredibly loud yet inexplicably soundless hissing noises inside her head are a bit odd though, and make it hard to enjoy the moment.

Oh.

Sothis has returned.

“You can be angry with me all you want,” Byleth whispers as softly as she can. “But you can’t deny she looks more peaceful and relaxed than in any of the memories we have of her.”

The hissing subsides and instead there is an empty sort of awkwardness, perhaps even guilt.

Because Rhea does really look deeply peaceful. In her sleep she pressed more of her body against Byleth’s, with her legs now –mismatched in height, as with the way she lowered herself her waist is now aligned with Byleth’s lower thighs- against Byleth’s own legs.

Her other hand is now firmly grasping the blanket covering Byleth right next to where Rhea’s head is pressed –and slightly mushed- against Byleth’s side.

It’s warm, Byleth thinks to herself. Warm to feel the other woman against her but it also causes a gently but strong warmth to radiate from within herself.

She isn’t sure if she has ever felt so comfortable before.

Sothis seems to have accepted her losses and is now either gone or gone quiet, so Byleth can enjoy her comfort in peaceful silence.

Taking another glance at Rhea’s sleeping form she wonders if she can still muster up the courage to give her the necklace, as the implications of the thing would surely hurt Rhea.

Perhaps there is a small part of her love for Rhea that is selfish and _wants_ after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhea tries her best to do the real human bean thing.  
> Byleth is patient.
> 
> I'm proud of the two idiots.


	5. Touch

She’s in-between wakefulness and light slumbers for quite some time, basking in the peace she feels at simply laying like this, with Rhea against her as her thoughts drift to nothing in particular. She feels so light. Sleeping was always a practical affair for her, but now she finds herself wishing she could laze around in bed like this for hours.

Which she does, until Lady Rhea begins to stir against her. Apparently she’s a slow one to wake, and even slower to become aware of her surroundings. She stretches her body lazily and yawns, the latter which Byleth finds surprisingly endearing, before she opens her eyes and still needs another few seconds to come to the conclusion she is half draped over Byleth.

“Oh,” she murmurs groggily as her eyes widen. “Oh,” she repeats again, this time sounding more alert. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I must have… I’ll let go ime-”

“No, stay,” Byleth interrupts her while simultaneously placing her hand over Rhea’s own which she had already began to retract. “I mean we can stay like this a little longer if you don’t mind,” she adds, to make her request sound a little less like a demand.

Rhea stills her movements and eyes her curiously. “Surely you have better things to do?” she asks with a hint of disbelief.

Byleth can’t help but laugh. “Not really no, we have quite some time left before I have to prepare my lessons for today and honestly I find myself enjoying laying here like this with you much more than anything else I can come up with.”

“Enjoying?” The Archbishop asks her with slightly widened eyes and a confused expression.

Byleth nods with a smile. “Mhm, it’s… soothing and peaceful. It never really occurred to me how much I liked feeling peaceful. I’m nearly always doing something. Not even really things that cause stress, just… practical things to keep me occupied. I never really sought out peace, not like this.”

Reluctantly and almost endearingly delicately, Rhea lowers her head again to lay down once more, yet struggles to find a position to lie with her head against Byleth’s side while still being able to look at her face.

“Come,” Byleth says as gentle as she can and spreads her arm next to her. An invitation for Rhea to truly lie against her.

The Archbishop’s eyes widen even more when she gets Byleth’s intention. She looks as if she wants to speak, to argue or protest but something akin to passive compliance falls over hear features.

She hesitates for a moment longer, searching Byleth’s eyes intently for anything like discomfort, malice, unwillingness, yet Byleth feels so at ease right now she’s confident Rhea will find none of the things she’s afraid of.

And indeed, her expression softens as she gracefully hoists herself up until her head is lined up with that of Byleth as she lies on her back with Byleth’s arm underneath her head.

Byleth can’t help but feel amused. The other woman is so stiff, and even when she all but invited her to cuddle, Rhea decided to awkwardly lie on her outstretched arm and stare intently at the ceiling.

“Come,” Byleth murmurs gently again, as she nudges her arm under Rhea upwards a little. “You can lie against me, if you so wish.”

Rhea’s head jolts sideways to meet Byleth’s eyes. “Do you wish for that?” she asks, sounding unsure and almost nervous.

Unable to help herself, Byleth feels a smile form on her lips. “I do yes.”

“Why?”

“Mhm, it might be odd but holding you so close makes me feel so safe. It should be silly for a mercenary, to feel safe when I have no weapons with me and with my guard down… but still, if I feel you against me I can’t help but want to let my guard down even more,” Byleth answers truthfully, and it’s the first time she manages to put the feeling into words like this.

“You’re not silly,” Rhea tells her softly before tentatively turning over to her side, and moves to let her head rest on Byleth’s shoulder while her arm tightens around Byleth’s waist. Even her legs she presses along the length of Byleth’s own, and Byleth can’t help but shiver at the sudden incredibly pleasing and comforting feeling of having Rhea’s body touching her own in so many places.

She dares to wrap the arm Rhea was previously lying on around the woman, her hand coming to rest on her waist, where she softly strokes her sides, eliciting a soft and slow sigh from Rhea.

“I feel safe like this too,” Rhea murmurs against her chest. “And it should be silly, because… because it makes no sense.” Her head perks up to look into Byleth’s eyes. “But please keep holding me,” she asks. The aching vulnerability in her voice is enough for Byleth’s brain to go haywire and tell her that it is of utmost importance she is to hold this woman tightly in her arms for all of eternity.

They lie like this for quite some time. Eventually Byleth musters up the courage to tentatively move to brush Rhea’s long hair.

She had been afraid Rhea might not appreciated being touched without warning, or would find the gesture too intimate to be appropriate but instead an almost needy whimper comes from the woman, so affected by the sensation.

It also immediately serves to embarrass her.

 _“Byleth…_ ” Comes the muffled reaction from her, and even the way the sounded of her voice is dampened by her mouth pressed into Byleth’s dress shirt doesn’t fully hide the tremble in her voice.

She’s so delicate, Byleth thinks to herself, yet doesn’t stop her ministrations, only slows them down a bit.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asks, giving the Archbishop a way out of she wishes to.

Rhea presses her face harder against Byleth and makes another muffled noise, which Byleth interprets as something in between embarrassment and frustration.

That’s a clear ‘no’ then, Byleth decides.

And with that she speeds up the way her fingers rake through the long green hair, and soon finds the courage to play with Rhea’s hair in all kinds of manners, each which elicit soft noises and whimpers of satisfaction and pleasure from the other woman, who seems to have surrendered herself to Byleth’s hand, with her whole body having gone limp.

Byleth finds out that the Archbishop particularly enjoys it if she spreads her fingers across the lower back of her head, grabs some strands of hair at the base and gently tugs at it.

The first time she does it Rhea almost moans in delight, and Byleth’s first reaction is to reassure her by tightening her hand in the fabric around Rhea’s waist, hoping to prevent her from shooting straight into embarrassment once more.

“I like doing this,” she whispers softly. “It’s nice.”

“…It feels really good, too.”

Rhea finds the strength to look up at Byleth, who as to stifle a gasp… and several other reactions.

With her hair now tussled, her cheeks reddened and the way her eyes look so glazed over and hazy, yet with dilated pupils makes Byleth feel things she cannot put into words.

“You look beautiful,” she whispers in quiet awe, yet that doesn’t cut it at all. She looks beautiful in such a way that Byleth wants to touch her, do things to let Rhea produce more of those noises and to keep her looking at herself like this always.

Rhea responds to her words with a watery smile, still looking dazed.

It’s love then, Byleth settles on. This particular way of finding Rhea so utterly breathtaking right now and which translates into wanting to touch her more, wanting to make her feel good, is a way of wanting to express her love. Or something…

But with a cold jab in her heart she reminds herself that holding her and playing with her hair is the only way for her to express it.

To shove the thought, and the unfamiliar feeling of longing, aside she resumes combing her fingers through Rhea’s hair again, and once she adds the faintest of pressure to her touch Rhea understands her intentions and lowers her head onto Byleth’s chest again with a soft sigh.

For quite some time Byleth isn’t sure if she’s fully awake, but she’s awake enough to keep moving her hand and hear the sounds Rhea makes, and that’s more than enough for her.

It isn’t until she hears the bells ring eight that she realizes she at least partially dozed off because time moved way faster than normal.

It also really means she should get going, because while she doesn’t have all that much to prepare for her class, and can usually wing it if she finds herself unprepared, she is very certain she definitely needs an hour to prepare _herself._

She feels incredibly comfortable and tender, and so wonderfully vulnerable, which she can let herself be around Rhea because she feels so safe with her.

But her students will definitely notice her lose track of what she’s saying or stare outside with a vacant expression whenever she’ll get hit by a flash of how she’s feeling right now.

It’s Rhea who gets up first, leaning on her elbow while her other hand is still placed over Byleth’s waist.

She’s almost atop of Byleth like this, with her face so close to Byleth’s own. She’s keenly aware of her hand still pressed against the Saint’s back. …It would only require a gentle push there to lower Rhea’s face even more. …Perhaps Rhea would let her.

Perhaps Rhea would kiss her.

Her mind freezes, and her body stiffens, causing Rhea to startle and move away from Byleth in one smooth motion. “My apologies, I’m keeping you here while you really ought to go and prepare your lessons,” she says hurriedly, with the faintest of blushes creeping up on her cheeks.

Once she’s entirely off the bed –and the distance between them makes Byleth feel cold- Rhea looks at her with a guilt ridden expression.

“I’ve been so selfish,” she says quietly, a tremble in her voice.

Now Byleth is out of the bed in seconds. “No. You haven’t been. I assure you, you were not selfish at all.”

“But I… I indulged,” Rhea mutters as she averts her gaze.

“ _We,_ ” Byleth corrects her. “We indulged. And I’m not even sure indulging is the right word. You took nothing from me I didn’t want to give you myself,” she hesitates as she summons the courage to continue. “I want to keep giving you more,” she dares saying.

Rhea’s eyes widen. “More? How could you possibly mean that?”

“I just do. And until the end of this moon I’ll be delighted to give you everything you need or want. If you find yourself wanting it, come seek me out. For tea, walks, more chats or even spending another night together like this… because that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be what you need.” Her voice is ragged by the end she’s done talking, as she forgot to breathe, and several times it cracked as her emotions poured into her voice.

Rhea gives her a bewildered look. “To be what I need…” she repeats uncertainly. “I don’t think I even know what I need.”

“Giving my life so that the Goddess can return is what you need,” Byleth states. “After that… after I’m gone everything will change for you and you’ll get that future you’ve been working so hard for and waiting even longer for.” It hurts to say, somewhere deep inside her, but it’s in a way she doesn’t understand and she doesn’t want to dwell on it now either.

“Until then, perhaps you can be selfish and spend as much time with me… because I want that too, I want to be selfish and indulge with you as well.” She feels herself fluster but refuses to lose to her nerves. “Perhaps you are what I need as well, to spend time with you until I go to the Holy tomb so that I can follow my destiny steadfastly and without regrets.”

Her words seem to hit a snare in Rhea, who suddenly looks very emotional. “I will do that,” she says in a flare of determination. “It’s the least I can do for you,” she adds much softer. “I will get to know you as who you are.”

It abruptly dawns on Byleth what she just said, and what Rhea just agreed to. To spend more time with each other. The thought makes her excited and almost giddy. “A-alright,” she stutters, suddenly feeling out of her depth. “I would really enjoy that.”

Rhea smiles at her. “Me too, professor. …Would you perhaps care to join me for tea this afternoon? After your classes are done of course.”

“Yes,” Byleth says without much thought. “Please, I would love to.”

She didn’t expect this, not at all. And suddenly she feels as if she’s walking on air.

Which lasts throughout her classes, which are much more chaotic than her students have come to expect from her, and she gets the occasional questioning look.

But she can’t help it. Not only does she have the memories of this morning to think back of, which give her pleasant shivers each time, she now also has teatime with Rhea to look forward to, which makes her feel almost childlike giddy.

When her classes have finally come to an end she wastes no time going to the private area in the garden where faculty can enjoy the outdoors and talk to one another, along with lots of tea.

She’s early but she doesn’t care.

It turns out she doesn’t have to care because Rhea is even earlier than her. Greeting her with a warm but slightly uncertain smile.

When Byleth has sat down and poured herself a cup of tea Rhea makes good on her promise to get Byleth to know as _Byleth_ and asks her all sorts of questions about herself.

Byleth had always been under the impression her life as a mercenary was not all that interesting to talk about, or at least not as interesting as other people made it out to be. Sure, she experienced tense, dangerous and exciting moments, but when it came down to it each mission was more or less the same.

Rhea teaches her otherwise by somehow asking all sorts of questions that make Byleth recall specific moments during her missions that stood out, things she never even really realized she cared about as much as she did. They’re small things like her father giving her impromptu lessons in the midst of battle or that time they were lost in a forest for nearly four days, but Rhea’s reactions suddenly make them feel much bigger.

She laughs and reacts with surprise and worry at times, asking for more details whenever she can, and it makes Byleth’s life seem… worth living somehow. Not as mundane as she always felt it was.

Or rather, she struggled to make much sense of her feelings at those times, but now that she recalls her life together with Rhea she realizes how many things she did feel in those moments, and how much more she feels when she thinks back on them.

Rhea herself is much more reluctant when it comes to talking about her own life, only mentioning the vaguest details here and there. Byleth supposes she can understand. If you have lived over a thousand years, and a lot of it in secrecy, it must feel strange to just come up with some of your more interesting experiences on a whim.

Sadly Rhea doesn’t have too much time.

Only for Byleth to realize it’s been nearly two hours when Rhea apologizes and tells her she has a meeting to attend soon.

It’s nothing like her to lose track of time but she was just too immersed in the conversation.

“I’m really sorry I have to cut this short,” Rhea murmurs with a guilty expression as she gets up from her chair.

Byleth hurriedly follows and finds herself standing awkwardly next to the other woman a moment later.

“It’s alright,” she tells her. “You have important duties to attend to.”

Rhea gives her a smile. “In a way,” she says dismissively. “But different things are important in different ways.”

She reaches out and grabs Byleth’s wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze as she looks her intently in the eyes.

“I’ll see you soon, professor,” she says softly and with another smile she makes her leave.

Byleth stands there for quite some time before she really has no excuses left to keep standing and stare at nothing like a dork.

Rhea’s ‘soon’ proves to indeed be soon, and frequent as well, as the following days Rhea seeks her out for all kinds of reasons, some flimsy and barely even an excuse and others which come in the form of more invitations to tea or walks.

Most often she just ‘happens’ upon Byleth and takes some time in her busy schedule to chat idly with her, much to Seteth’s chagrin, who is often accompanying her, but Rhea pointedly ignores his subtle ways of trying to hurry her on.

She even takes to touching Byleth, nothing more than a hand on her shoulder or back in greeting, or another squeeze of her wrist whenever she can get away with it.

But it’s enough to make Byleth feel like she’s walking on air and looks forward to each encounter with Rhea with excitement. She internally tries to chide herself for hoping she’ll get another hand on her shoulder, but she can’t shake her eagerness at the prospect, or the stupid smiles she has each time she’s thinking about it.

Two days later she’s in the middle of talking with Rhea about nothing in particular, as Rhea managed to snag her away just after her classes ended and she was making her way to the dining hall, when Seteth finds the both of them and already looks irked he found his sister dawdling, as he likes to call it.

“Seteth, I was in the middle of something,” Rhea says with a slightly sour expression, vaguely upset he’s interrupting her once again.

“I can see that, Lady Rhea,” Seteth says thinly. “But you are expected to attend prayer soon.”

Rhea looks at him and subtly narrows her eyes. “Those aren’t mandatory.”

Her brother looks slightly taken aback, and then back to annoyed. “No, but they are _important.”_

“So is talking to the professor,” Rhea argues back, still sounding gentle but also somewhat unyielding.

Byleth is starting to feel increasingly like she really doesn’t want to be here to witness them bickering about _her,_ but alas, here she is.

“As I’ve noticed, yes,” Seteth says with thinly veiled hostility, and makes it a point to glare at Byleth, who looks back at him as stoic and uncaring as possible.

Rhea huffs, which Byleth finds oddly endearing. “Fine,” she says curtly.

She hesitates before moving, first looking at Byleth with a lingering question in her eyes and then gives Seteth a hard stare, not hiding her own annoyance at being told what to do.

“Actually, professor,” she says sweetly. “I was wondering if you would be willing to spend the night with me again.”

Both Byleth and Seteth make a shocked noise at the same time. With Byleth sounding more afraid and Seteth trying not to cough as he wheezes.

“ _What,”_ he says sharply.

“To sleep! …With her!” Byleth blurts out in panic, only to realize she’s not helping herself her.

“With our eyes closed,” she splutters. “As in just the act of sleeping, nothing else,” she continues to stammer. “She said she had nightmares,” she finally adds awkwardly in a soft murmur.

“Right,” Seteth says flatly, clearly unimpressed with her passionate description of sleeping. He glances over at his sister with a cold glare, yet looks also curious as to why she would possibly say this, in front of him no less.

When Byleth follows his example and her eyes land on Rhea she catches the subtle smile tugging on her lips and the twinkle in her eyes and promptly realizes the woman did this on purpose to amuse herself and is terribly pleased with the result.

“At eight?” Byleth says, resigning herself to the possibility she’ll be taken out in cold blood by Seteth before eight can even happen.

“Sounds perfect,” Rhea responds, struggling to hide her mischief.

“Excuse me,” Seteth tries to intervene. “But Lady Rhea, as your advisor I must object to you spending a nigh-”

“Seteth,” Rhea says sternly, “we are almost late for prayer. We can’t have that now, can we?”

She gives Byleth one more lingering look. “See you tonight, professor.”

And with that she’s of.

Seteth remains standing where he is, fuming and unable to come up with what to say.

“Seteth, _now,”_ Rhea calls for him in the distance.

With one last glare at Byleth, telling her silently that this isn’t over, he hurries after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup I heard it was Rhealeth week... *checks notes* ...two weeks ago. So here is my next chapter, right on time.
> 
> No matter how I write Rhea, I will always let her get on Seteth's nerves whenever she can.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to turn Byleth's usually stoic and unfeeling self into a more emotive Byleth. But as she still is very stoic and mentally strong she's not all that easily perturbed or hurt. Instead she finds a lot of things amusing or ironic, She's also rather straightforward.
> 
> Poor Rhea is such a train wreck. Poor girl is barely keeping it together and Byleth just comes in and casually sweeps the rug from under her already trembling legs.
> 
> And well....poor Sothis, oh Lord


End file.
